Three is a Crowd
by thecapefangirl
Summary: An AU taken place after the events of "Sign of Three". Sherlock is walking home when he is met by an unexpected visitor. Contains Johnlock and a whole bunch of twists. (I swear the story is better than this summary) Note that there will be abuse triggers in later chapters.
1. Chapter one

**_*I forgot to add that this fic is based on the third and fourth series and I will be using most of the source material except I will be changing some stuff here and there. Just a bit of my creative imagination._**

 ** _I do not own Sherlock or anything_** XXX

The music from the wedding reception was still audible from down the street. It changed from Franki Valli and the Four Seasons to a more subdued Lionel Richie.

Sherlock didn't notice the change though. He was way too deep into his own thoughts to notice anything.

 _A child. He…_ they _are going to have a baby._

Those thoughts ran over and over in his head. He had finally come to terms that John was leaving him to move in with Mary, because he always knew that in the end there that John would always have time for him.

But now…now there is a third.

Sherlock stopped for a moment by a wall of a Chinese restaurant. He leant against in and slid down till he was sitting on the pavement. His breath was visible in the cold night air.

Many thoughts ran through his mind. He should have been happy for them, but there was something niggling at the back of his head. There was something about Mary that set off alarms. He shook his head, annoyed at how he could think of such a stupid thing

 _John chose well, yet I always thought it was going to be us solving crimes together forever and maybe one day we…we…_

Sherlock leaned his head back against the red brick. He never was wrong with deductions. He was _so_ certain that John was gay. Everyone could see it: Mrs Hudson, Irene Addler, even...

"Hello Sherlock."

Mycroft.

Sherlock looked up, and through his blurry eyes he could see the shape of his brother, leaning on his umbrella. Behind him was a cab with a driver patiently waiting.

Sherlock was surprised. It was not how he found Sherlock, because he is Mycroft, but why would he find him? There was no love lost between the two, yet there he was, standing in front of him (he obviously put on some weight).

"What do you want Mycroft." Sherlock lowered his eyes. He was lonely but not _that_ lonely. He really didn't want to discuss his current situation with his brother.

Mycroft cocked his head. "You know brother mine, it is considered rude to leave a wedding reception early."

"Well it isn't when the guest is not welcome anymore." Sherlock said through clenched teeth. He pushed himself off the pavement and straightened his jacket, automatically flipping his collar up. A fond memory popped in his mind.

 _Sherlock and John were walking back to the car from the Baskerville Government Research Station in Dartmoor. They were finally on an interesting, challenging case. John named it "The Hounds of Baskerville" and, for once, it was a fitting name. It was one about a "hound" that haunted the village, that turned out to be some hallucinatory chemicals, sound effects and ordinary wolves._

 _While they were walking back, Sherlock flipped his coat collar like he usually did._

 _Can we please not do this this time?" John asked._

 _Do what?" Sherlock turned his head towards his friend._

 _You being all mysterious with your cheekbones and turning your coat collar up so you look cool."_

 _"I don't do that!" He protested._

 _Yeah," John opened up the car door, "you do."_

 _Sherlock had a poker face, but he could feel his cheeks heat up. There were many words to describe Sherlock, but "mysterious" or "cool" was not on top of his list, but, he supposed, it was a complement._

 _Like usual, Sherlock's brain worked immediately, dissecting the sentence. Not many males would mention something as random about a person's facial structure,_ _especially such a part like cheekbones which many consider attractive, to another male that they consider their friend._ _Or noticing something as small as the way one dresses and vocalising his opinion in a exaggerated manner, unless..._

 _Sherlock stopped thinking and glanced at his friend while they were driving. He always seemed to forget the complete obvious about John even if John himself did not know._

 _It was only later, at the moment when John nearly left him in the village, was when Sherlock realised how much he took his friendship with John for granted. He realised that he would not survive one week without his companion. He realised how much he had fallen in love with hi_ _m._

Mycroft's voice broke through Sherlock's memory. "You are thinking of John."

Sherlock snapped his head around, about to open his mouth but Mycroft held his hand up.

"Don't try to deny it, dear brother, I know. You have a certain smile when you think of him."

Sherlock was quiet. For once there was no witty comeback or snide comment. He knew his voice would betray him. He could not let his brother, out of all people, see how weak he was then.

Usually he would ignore such trivial feelings, because after all his work came first. But now he regretted all the times he could have told John the truth and now there is nothing could be done about it.

It was the feeling of hopelessness that destoryed him. Sherlock always managed to figure it out in the end. This time though, he could not get what he wanted.

The only thing for him to do was to be happy for his friend, because seeing him happy that night meant a lot to Sherlock.

Sherlock took a deep breath in and pushed past his brother. His throat was sore and his head was dizzy from holding back the tears. He just had to get away far enough so he could let go of those dreaded tears.

Before he could get away, Mycroft grabbed onto Sherlock's sleeve and did something that no respecting member of the British government did.

He pulled his little brother in for a hug.

Sherlock was so emotional that he did not register the awkwardness of the gesture. He clutched Mycroft tightly as he cried.

For a full five minutes this happened until Mycroft pulled away, his face betraying no emotion. He clasped his brother's shoulders and looked him in his eye.

"What we just did, never happen." For a split-second he glanced over Sherlock's shoulder as if something spooked him. He quickly turned on his heel, walked to the cab and drove away, leaving Sherlock alone again.

 _Did Mycroft just_ hug _me? Am I in a coma? Did he find out news that he was dying? What just happened?_

Sherlock was barely trying to register what just happened when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Sherlock?" John's voice said gently from behind him. "Is it true?"

 ** _Hello my bokkies!_** ** _I am back again._**

 ** _Wow I haven't written a Sherlock fic for a while, or any fic for that matter, so I apologise if I am a bit rusty._**

 ** _If there is enough support I will be more than willing to write the next chapter. Please tell me if you do in the comment section._**

 ** _Before I sign off, I should mention that I remember reading this off a post on Tumblr. If I find the name I will add it here._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl_**


	2. Chapter two

_John danced with his new wife; his heart filled with unexplainable joy. He was going to have a baby! It seemed that the day was getting better and better. First his wedding, then a prevention of a death of a friend, now this!_

 _He smiled at Mary, but she looked distant, almost if she has just realised something terrible. John's smile slowly fell. He stopped moving, holding his wife's arm gently._

 _Mary, what is the matter?" John asked._

 _She just waved him off. "I am just feeling a bit overwhelmed with all of this information at the moment." She managed a small smile. "Do you mind if I just sit down?"_

 _Of course…" He began to lead his wife to the row of seats that lined the wall but she stopped him._

 _I mean, can I sit by myself for a while? Why don't you go and talk to Sherlock."_

 _John was surprised at the request, but he nodded in understanding. He kissed her on her cheek before he turned to scan the room for his best friend. Sherlock was nowhere to be found, only an envelope with the sheet music for the wedding dance. John looked at it before pocketing it in his jacket._

 _He made his way through the crowd, asking anyone and everyone where Sherlock could be. They all said that they didn't know. He walked up to Molly, who was dancing with Mrs Hudson._

 _Molly!" John called over the music, which changed to Lionel Richie's_ All Night Long. _She grinned at him. "Do you know where Sherlock is?"_

 _She nodded. "I saw him walk out about five minutes ago." She pointed at the entrance._

 _Thanks."_

Why would Sherlock leave? _John thought as he exited the room, suddenly hit by the chilly air._ I suppose it is Sherlock. He wouldn't stay if he didn't see any use for him in staying.

 _Sherlock!" He called out. He pulled his coat tighter around him and folded his arms across his chest. The biting breeze nipped at the base of his neck. He started to see logic to why Sherlock flips his collar. A small grin pulled at his lips. He thought back to that day when he and Sherlock were on that case in Dartmoor. He remembered that weird statement that he let slip from his lips on how "mysterious" Sherlock's cheekbones were and how "cool" flipping the collar of the iconic coat made him look. John wanted to slap himself for saying that. It was the first time he consciously let his feelings towards his friend slip out of his mouth._

 _John shook his head, trying to get those thoughts out of his head. That was just a phase. Sherlock was just his best friend and now John was a married man. Anyway Sherlock was married to his work, and if he was in love with anyone, it would have been that Addler woman…_

 _There were voices ahead: one was distinctly Sherlock's and the other one_

Is that…Mycroft? _John was confused._ Why would Mycroft be here? He does many things but talking to Sherlock unnecessarily is not one of them.

 _John crouched behind a wall, peeking behind it ever so slightly._

 _You are thinking of John?" John's curiosity was sparked at the mention of his name. "Don't try to deny it brother, I know. You have a certain smile when you think of him."_

 _John gasped._ Is Mycroft saying what I think he is saying?! _He shook his head in disbelief._

 _As Sherlock pushed past his brother, Mycroft grabbed his arm and pulled him in for a hug. Sherlock caved in and started to cry._

 _John was at that point certain that someone spiked his drink. There was no way Mycroft would hug his brother not under any circumstances unless it was very serious…_

 _Then it hit John. It hit him like a train that was traveling a thousand miles per hour. Mycroft knew that the wedding would cause Sherlock pain, because Sherlock witnessed his best friend get married to another. Mycroft must have figured out that after the first dance, Sherlock would have felt alone and leave. Mycroft may be a cold–hearted bastard most of the time, but he always had a soft spot for Sherlock and his relationship with John. He was always the one making references about John's closeness with him. Mycroft felt_ bad _about the turn of events._

 _John caught Mycroft's eye. Mycroft turned visibly pink and pushed away from Sherlock's hold._

 _What we just did never happened." He glanced back at John one last time as if to say 'you know what to do' and turned swiftly on his heel and walked towards a black cab._

 _Sherlock just stood there, frozen. He was still trembling from the crying._

 _John got up from the pavement and quietly neared Sherlock. He had to hear the words from Sherlock's own lips._

 _John took a deep breath and touched his friend on the shoulder._

 _Sherlock, is it true?"_

 _XXX_

Sherlock froze.

"Shouldn't you be at your wedding?" He said calmly even though he could feel his pulse racing, and his body shaking. "I'm sure everyone is missing you." He choked out the last words.

John pulled his friend around to face him. Sherlock's face was a complete mess. His eyes were bloodshot and cheeks wet from the tears. He looked like he was taking again. He instinctively reached to check his arm, but stopped himself.

"Sherlock, you are not answering my question." John said with a bit more force.

"Now is not the time…" Sherlock said with an equal amount of force, pulling his shoulder away from John's hand.

 _No, no no, you were never supposed to know! This was my burden to bear!_ Sherlock screamed in his head. Now he couldn't face his friend, and their friendship was never to be the same again. The best for the both of them was for them to part ways.

Sherlock felt his heart hurt at the thought of leaving John for good. He promised that he would take care of his friend and his wife and the only way for doing this was to leave. He couldn't ruin John's marriage, especially when there is a baby on the way.

"Yes now!" John blocked Sherlock with his body. He stared his friend in the eye. "Is it true that you are in love with me or not!"

Sherlock held John's stare, only a few inches apart, knowing that he would not back down until he had an answer. The worst part is the John knew what said answer was, but he wanted to hear it out loud.

They were so close together that it took everything in Sherlock to not give into his urges and kiss John.

"Well, is it?" John persisted.

Sherlock broke eye contact before replying in a soft voice

"Yes, it is true."

John pulled away from the detective. He never admitted it, but down deep in his soul, that was the answer that he wanted to hear. He wanted to know that all those little hints that he got from Sherlock were not a figment of his imagination and the best of all was that Sherlock wasn't in love with Irene Addler.

"For how long."

"Ever since I met you…"

"God Sherlock!" John rubbed his forehead.

"…but I only fully realised it that day in Dartmoor."

John gave a smile, but not one that had humour in it. It was the smile that he put on when he was angry. He was furious with himself for not taking the opportunity when he could. He was so furious at Sherlock for not making a move. He was furious that after all of this time he was living with the man that he could have called his husband. Suddenly the thought of becoming a father was not so appealing.

"Seriously," He spat out, and jabbed a finger in his chest "you have known me for years and you couldn't once, _not even once_ ," his voice became more frantic, "tell me this!"

Sherlock looked like he was a puppy that had been kicked. He was ashamed. He was about to open his mouth to explain, but John cut him off before he could even start.

"And don't give me any bollocks that you didn't know, because I know you. You probably deduced my sexuality when we first met. You probably knew my feelings before I even knew AND YOU DIDN'T SAY ANYTHING!"

Sherlock kept quiet. Little did John know that Sherlock had to build up courage to ask him out. Sherlock had gone out with people before, but usually that was because he wanted something from them. With John, the only thing he wanted from him is his love. As cheesy as it sounds, it was true. And the thought of a long term relationship scared him. He knew if John and he ever broke up, their relationship would never be the same again.

Sherlock cleared his throat, refusing for tears to flow again. "John, I may have never said it, but I have shown it. I didn't go through two years of Hell disabling Moriarty's network for nothing."

This seemed to hit a nerve in John, because he knew it was true. Sherlock had to fake his death, a last resort, to protect John. He would rather have been on the floor surrounded by fake blood, than John surrounded by real blood.

Sherlock continued closing the gap between the two. "I was beaten and tortured. I was so close to giving up at one point, but I didn't. Do you know why." John was still, tears silently flowing down his cheeks. "I kept going because I knew that you were the light at the end of the tunnel. I did it because I thought that you would welcome me with open arms at the end. At that point I swore that I would never let you go again." Tears caught in his throat. "When I came back, I was so excited to see my friend, yet instead I saw a man in a ridiculous moustache," John let a small smile tug on his lips, "and with another. You were so angry at me and so happy with her, that I knew that whatever you felt for me was gone. I missed my chance."

John stared at Sherlock, his heart dropping in his stomach. He was so angry at Sherlock's death that he needed someone else to fill the hole that his friend left. When he met Mary, he was sure that she was the one. With no Sherlock interfering with his love life, the relationship reached the point that he was confident that he made the right decision.

Apparently not.

"I-I had I had no idea…" John met Sherlock's gaze. "Could you ever forgive me?" John, without thinking, cupped the detective's cheek, while the other hand slipped around his waist.

"Don't you think it is too late for that?" Sherlock breathed. He was so close to breaking

"No."

With that John leaned forward and touched his lips gently with Sherlock's. John, being considerably shorter, maneuvered his arms so it linked around Sherlock's neck. Sherlock moved his arms around John, pulling the doctor towards him.

The kiss became more intense. The world around them was nothing. It seemed that it was only the both of them, and this unbreakable bond they shared.

That was until a voice pulled them out of it. It was Mary calling for her new husband.

They both froze in their lip-lock. John, coming back to reality, realised what he did and he was mortified.

Sherlock saw it in his eyes, and his heart sank.

"John…" Sherlock said as John pushed away.

"I am sorry Sherlock… I made a vow. I cannot break it off now, especially if there's a baby on the way."

"Please…" Sherlock pleaded, even though he knew that it was futile.

"I am so sorry Sherlock." And John meant it. There was nothing more than he wanted at that moment than to elope with his lover, but he made a promise and being a soldier, he is not in a habit of breaking them.

"John, where are you?" Mary's voice neared them.

They looked each other in the eye a last time before John slipped away from Sherlock and moved to his wife. He feint a grin when he faced her. He looked back for one last time to see that Sherlock was already gone.

 ** _Howzit Bokkies_**

 ** _Eish that was a lot longer than I had planned._**

 ** _As there is so many nice people saying nice things about the first chapter, I will be continuing the story._**

 ** _Stay tuned and comment_**

 ** _Love thecapefangirl_**


	3. Chapter three

_One month later…_

John twisted and turned under the covers. The nightmares had returned again. They were the usual war flashbacks, except now they also included Sherlock.

 _Sherlock…_

Ever since John and Mary's wedding, Sherlock had gone missing. No one knew why, except John.

He had lost his best friend to God knows where because of his own foolishness. It had been his fault for confronting Sherlock. It had been his fault for kissing him.

The guilt consumed him, making it difficult for being a supportive husband for his pregnant wife. Sure, he still loved her, but not as deeply as he did before. She just…she just wasn't Sherlock.

A pounding on the door woke John with a start.

 _The game is on_."

XXX

Sherlock lay on the crummy, dirt-stained mattress. His vision swirled before his eyes as the drug's effect slowly wear off. He was extremely tired, but he could still register his surroundings. It was a typical opium den: it was filled with lounging bodies of young users, all in a state of nothing.

Sherlock turned over, his back to the rest of the room, his mind dying to rest for a few seconds. The whole month that he had been alone had been a difficult one.

He had first been rejected by his love of his life, now he had to take down a man whose intellect and malevolence equalled Moriarty's, maybe even more. His name is Charles Augustus Magnussen. While Moriarty was forthright, Magnussen was sneaky. This forced Sherlock to do things that hurt him just as much.

Sherlock turned over on the bed. Believe it or not, Sherlock wasn't there on a pleasure trip. This was for the case and he couldn't screw it up. He had to convince Magnussen that opium was his "pressure point". It was the only way that John could stay safe. If Magnussen knew he would ruin both their lives.

Just as he was about to fall asleep again, he heard footsteps behind him.

"Isaac?" A voice called. "Isaac Whitney? Isaac?"

The footsteps came closer to him then stopped. The voice was speaking to the man next to him. Sherlock recognised that voice from anywhere, but he daren't take a chance to look around.

"Dr Watson," The young man next to him said weakly, "where am I?"

"The arse-end of the universe with the scum of the Earth. Look at me." John said as he checked the boy's eyes.

"Have you come for me?"

"D'you think I know a lot of people here?"

Sherlock waited for this moment. He knew that John always opened a doorway in which he could make a dramatic entrance.

He turned around to face John. Sherlock's heart pounded against his chest. This is the first time he has seen his friend since the wedding. Since the night where he was left with a broken heart that no amount of drugs could fill.

"Oh, hello John!" Sherlock tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I didn't expect to see you here. Come for me too?"

XXX

John was pissed. So very, very pissed.

There his friend lay, high as a kite, acting like everything is a bowl of roses and kittens. It was such a Sherlock thing to do pitching up at the worst times.

"Christ Sherlock!"

"It isn't what you think…"

"What the Hell am I supposed to think. My friend, who I haven't seen in about a month, is lying in an opium den and is totally drugged up. Of course I am going to think that you have taken again. "

"I am on a case, John!" Sherlock got up and staggered towards the door.

John ungracefully pulled Isaac up and dragged him along. He was so furious with Sherlock. Just like Sherlock, not giving a fuck who he hurt as long as he got to the end in one piece.

"Isaac, go and wait with Mrs Watson in the car." He let go of the kid and waited as he clumsily jogged to the outside. John turned to his friend, who was trying to open up a busted-up old door. Sherlock was muttering to himself.

"Why, why, why, WHY, do I always find you like this?!"

Sherlock ignored John. "This door is jammed."

John let out an exasperated sigh. _Typical Sherlock. Avoiding the damn topic._

"Sherlock." John warned, crossing his arms. "What is this really about?"

Sherlock knew that this topic would pop up in this conversation. Thus was another reason why he didn't want the doctor to find out now. He knew that John would blame this… _situation_ …on that night a month ago.

Sherlock would not lie. There were many times before Lady Smallwood came when Sherlock was about to cave into the craving, but he always stopped himself by playing on his violin. He would consistently get complaints from Mrs Hudson about playing to the early morning. Sherlock suspected that she knew what happened. She was very observant and would have no shame in throwing her opinion about them into conversations.

This is why Mrs Hudson was the best hous… _landlady_ …ever.

He also knew that this was not the time or place for this conversation. He pushed through the door by using his full weight.

"For God's sake, John! I'm on a case!"

"A month! That is all it took! One!" He couldn't believe that Sherlock was desperate enough to use a _case_ as an excuse for using again. Was he trying to hide the real reason that he was drugged up?

"Working!" Sherlock jumped down on to a dumpster. John was refusing to let this go. He knew that the way they left things was not the best, but he was still John's friend and he had to get him to Molly… Immediately!

"Sherlock Holmes, in a drug den! How's that going to look?!" John fought back.

"I am undercover!" The car pulled up by them.

"No you're not!"

"Well I am not NOW!" Sherlock shouted back.

Mary rolled down the window. "In! Both of you! Quickly!"

A few seconds later the boy whose arm John sprained begged to be taken with as he was absolutely convinced that John broken it.

"No, go away." Mary said.

John sighed. He might as well as taken him along as well. No one should be left alone in a house of drugs.

"No. Let him." He poked his head out of the window, "Just get in." Then added. "It is a sprain!"

"So we are taking everyone home!" Mary said.

"Hey Shezza." The boy said to Sherlock.

John, for the first time, looked amused at his friend.

"Shezza?"

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I was on a case."

"Shezza." Mary looked in the rear-view mirror. 'Seriously though."

John picked up his phone and dialled the number. "We are not going home; we are going to Bart's. I am calling Molly." He placed the phone to his ear.

"Why?"

John turned to face his friend with a look that said _we are going to talk about this later_.

"Because Sherlock Holmes needs to pee in a jar."

 ** _Hey my bokkies_**

 ** _The next few chapters are based on the episode "His Last Vow", except I am going to make much needed alterations. (Not that the episode needs it...you know what I mean!)_**

 ** _So yip._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl_**


	4. Chapter four

John excused himself from the lab. Once he got out at a safe distance where no one could hear him, he pulled out his phone and dialled the number.

He had to wait only two seconds before a voice answered.

"I take that this has to do with Sherlock." There was no need for niceties. That just was his way.

"Yes, Mycroft, I found him. He was in an opium den and at the moment he is completely high. He claims that he was taking it for a case, but I don't believe it for a second."

Mycroft sighed. He and John had kept in contact ever since John first discovered that Sherlock was missing. It was no secret between them about how much John felt for Sherlock and he never denied it. They never mentioned that night, as if it never existed at all, but John knew that it had some effect on Mycroft. Mycroft tended to treat John with an inch more kindness and respect.

"Alright, I will send someone to investigate the apartment." And with that Mycroft hung up.

John pocketed the phone, pinched his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. He should have been relieved that his friend is safe, but he knew their relation was delicate and any wrong move could destroy whatever they had.

"John, are you alright?" Mary asked as she came out of the room.

He gave her a small smile. "Yeah, I am just worried about Sherlock that's all."

She nodded. "Well that is Sherlock for you. Always has to make a dramatic entrance. Do you remember when I first met him? He literally rose from the dead and pretended to be our waiter."

John's mouth tugged to the corner at the memory. John remembered how angry he was to find that he finally got over his best friend and first love, then out of nowhere he popped up, expecting a welcome party.

"Anyway," Mary's voice snapped him out of that memory, "I just came to tell you that Molly is all finished up. I am going to take boys home." She pecked him on his cheek and walked away.

John knew he should tell his wife. He should tell her that he is in love with Sherlock, but he had no heart to.

Too be perfectly honest, married life with Mary has gone a bit cold. The spark that he had with Mary had gone. He wanted to blame Sherlock, but it wasn't his fault. It was John who initiated the kiss; it was Sherlock who wanted to forget everything. It was John's fault. And he felt so guilty keeping this secret from his wife. She deserved better.

XXX

Mary finally arrived home with the two boys in tow. Mrs Whitney was sitting on the brick wall, fidgeting with a bunched up tissue. Her face was strewn with tears and her eyes red.

Her face brightened up with relief when the car stopped. The three got out of the car and Mrs Whitney ran to her son and squeezed him. Isaac, who was still a bit confused, patted his mum awkwardly on her back.

"Thank God that you are safe! I thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere!" She pulled away and looked him in his eye, her expression changing slightly. "But that doesn't mean that you are not in trouble young man. You and I are going to have a long talk."

She then dragged him in. Poor Isaac still trying to get his bearings right nearly tripped over his own feet. Mary turned to Bill Wiggins and sighed. "Come on in, I suppose. Do you want a cup of tea? I wouldn't mind one myself."

Wiggins followed her into the house, clutching his arm. He still was in pain from Dr Watson, breaking, sorry, _spraining_ his arm. Dr Watson was not as nice as Shezza (sorry _Sherlock_ ) made him out to be.

Oh yes, Sherlock spoke about his friend a lot. Sure he was high, but Wiggins could hear the emotion behind the name. Wiggins wondered if there was something more that friendship between the two.

Mary popped on the kettle and brought out two mugs. "This will take a bit of time. You can use the bathroom to wash up, if you want. It is upstairs to the left."

"Ah, thank you, Mrs Watson." He turned and trundled up the stairs. As he left Mary the doorbell rang.

 _Oh God, what does Kate want now!?_

Mary put the teabags down in the mugs. The bell rang again.

"I am coming!" She shouted to the visitor. She got to the door and opened it up only to find that it wasn't Kate Whitney. Mary flinched when she saw who it was.

She looked to either side of the house and then beckoned the man in

"What are you doing here!? I thought we were done doing business." She hissed.

He gave her his sinister smirk, adjusting his glasses ever so slightly. He glanced at Mary's swollen tummy. "Does John know the whole story?"

Mary's face paled. _How does he know?_ "What do you want Magnussen?" She managed to choke out.

"Just one more mission."

XXX

 _Meanwhile, at 221B Baker Street…_

"It's for a case, you say?" John asked. He was now starting to believe his friend. Mycroft's reaction to the name was all the information he needed to change his mind. Especially when Sherlock nearly broke his brother's arm when Mycroft told them to stay out of it. If there is one thing John had ever learned about Sherlock, it is to never tell him to back away from a case unless you do actually want your arm broken.

"Yup." Replied Sherlock as he walked towards the bathroom for a much needed shower. You would think that Sherlock would be solely focused on the case. Nope! He, at this moment in time, was more worried by the fact that there is something that would kill John even more behind his bedroom door.

"What sort of case?" Sherlock smirked. He could always tell when he peaked John's interest. And that is exactly what he was aiming for.

"Too big and dangerous for any sane individual to get involved in."

"Are you trying to put me off?"

"God no." Sherlock gave his friend a grin. "Trying to recruit you." He went into the bathroom. "Stay out of my bedroom." And with that he closed the bathroom door.

John felt relieved, and for the first time in ages he allowed himself a real smile.

Yet one thing bothered him.

Sherlock made a constant effort for people to not go into his bedroom. This statement was strange because it was universally known to never go into Sherlock's bedroom uninvited. So why was he trying to be so secretive about it?

John waited for a few heartbeats before he cautiously ventured towards the room at the end of the hallway.

 _I bet that he is hiding something embarrassing, like, I don't know…maybe…_

John didn't get to finish his thought as he was interrupted by the door opening by itself. He stopped in his tracks when he saw who it was, his heart sinking to the bottom of his stomach, breaking into little pieces.

"Oh John hi." She greeted, awkwardly pulling her shirt over her hips. "How are you?"

"Janine?" Whatever elated joy he felt had disappeared.

 _It does seem that there was a lot that happened during this past month._

 ** _Howzit my mooi bokkies_**

 ** _So what a plot twist with Mary, amiright?_**

 ** _I just want to thank bakazuki26 again for all those plot prompts. I am surely going to have more interesting story now. Cheers bru._**

 ** _Hopefully I will post at least one more chapter before Christmas!_**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl_**


	5. Chapter five

"Sorry, not dressed." She blushed as she walked past the stunned John. "Has everyone gone? I heard shouting."

John stared for a millisecond before he could form words. _Sherlock has a… a girlfriend. But…but I thought…_

"Yeah. They are all gone." He managed to get out. _Sherlock has a Hell of a lot of explaining to do._

"Oh is that the time! I have to get ready!" She turned to get some mugs from the cabinet. She continued to chatter on about family affairs, John interjecting one word answers when appropriate. He just couldn't function any other way.

He couldn't believe his eyes. It seemed that Sherlock really had moved on. John had to push the thought aside. _Of course he moved on. You pushed him away, you moron. You were the one who cut it off with him. Or maybe you are just over-reacting, she might have just borrowed his room for the night. For absolutely no reason what so ever._

"Where is Sherl?" Janine asked.

John blinked at her and gave a disbelieving smile. "Sherl?!" _First Shezza now Sherl! He was gone for one month._ "Um he is just having a bath. I'm sure he will come out in a minute."

"Oh like he ever is." She joked. John gave a laugh, a laugh that he hoped didn't sound as fake as he thought.

Janine turned around and walked to the bathroom and opened the door. "Morning!" She sang cheerily.

That was when all humour drained from his face. It was when he realised that it was over between them. Sherlock truly moved on.

John heard them giggle! Giggle! If he had known anything about Sherlock is that he doesn't _giggle._ That sort of thing happened to other people.

He walked over to the couch and stared at the spot where his chair used to stay. _He even got rid of my Goddamn chair!_

For ten minutes he sat there, staring. All sorts of thoughts ran through his mind. _Maybe this is good. It is good that Sherlock has moved on and I now have no reason to leave my wife. This is good…_ He just sat there repeating the words over and over in his head. John didn't even notice Sherlock and Janine kissing in front of him before she said her goodbyes. He didn't even notice Sherlock speaking to him.

"…John are you even listening?" John jerked up his head.

"Yeah. Sure. Yup."

Sherlock could see that his friend was distressed, and he knew why. He didn't like it much either, but he had to do it. It was the only way. And if John knew why he was doing it, it could jeopardise the whole case. Sherlock had to prove to Magnussen that John was not important, and if John suddenly decided to elope somewhere, Magnussen would know instantly, God knows how. Oh and how else was Sherlock supposed to get into that office?

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm sure you have some questions."

"Yeah you have a _girlfriend!_ "

Sherlock looked at his friend. "Yes I have. Now onto Charles Augustus Magnussen…"

John shook his head, standing up, He pointed a finger Sherlock. "Magnussen can wait. What I want to know is what the fuck happened in the month you were gone."

"John not now…" Sherlock rolled his eyes, waving John off. "This case is a bit more important. So anyway, Magnussen is to meet me here in…"

John held his hand up for silence. "Shut up, Sherlock, about bloody Magnussen. I want to know about Janine."

Sherlock began to feel impatient. He really didn't have time for John's angsty feelings, especially since that their lives depend on it. Sherlock really hoped that it didn't have to resort to fighting fire with fire, but it seemed to be the only way. "Really, why would you care so much about my relationship? From where we last left it, you didn't seem to care about anything about me…"

"Sherlock, you know that isn't true!" John cut in.

Sherlock let out a humourless laugh and he wasn't even faking it. He was still hurt by John, no matter how much he loved his friend. "Isn't it though? I didn't even get one single text to try and talk to me. Not one. You haven't _once_ checked up on me since that day, even though your honeymoon ended two weeks ago."

John didn't know how to reply to that. He bent his head, ashamed. He was so wrapped up in his own crumbling world that he didn't even think to check on their relationship.

Sherlock seemed to read John's thoughts. "And on your honeymoon, how is your marriage? I hope it is _alllllll_ that you wanted. You seemed so _happy_ whenever you speak to Mary."

John shot his head up, anger flooding through his veins. _Oooohh now you are just rubbing it in._

"Since when did the great Sherlock Holmes learn sarcasm?" John spat out.

"When I learnt that it is the only language you speak." Sherlock shot back.

"Sorry to stop this lover's quarrel, but there is someone down stairs to see you."

Both of the men turned in surprise to see Mrs Hudson standing by the door. Her face was serious and she looked a bit frightened.

"This was not...I am not…I am married Mrs Hudson!" John exclaimed, grasping for any sort of excuse he could use.

Mrs Hudson waved him off. "Please dear, pull the other one, it has bells on it. I heard you two fighting from down stairs. Anyway that isn't important…there is…" She looked at desperately at Sherlock. He nodded in understanding.

"Mrs Hudson let him up." She nodded and ran down the steps.

"It seems that he is early." Sherlock turned to John, his facial expression changed. "John, whatever happens don't show any emotion towards any name or thing he mentions to you. If you do, it might just be your downfall."

XXX

Mary curled up on the chair, hugging her knees to her chest.

Wiggins had left a few minutes before, leaving Mary alone with her thinking over Magnussen's offer. Well, it wasn't much of an offer, more of a deal that would ruin close relationships no matter what option she chose.

 _Why did he have to come to me? Why did he want to come now?_ She sat there tears streaming down her face.

 _Because he's a sadistic arsehole who can't do his own dirty work,_ her brain answered, _and because he gets his kicks from being a sadistic arsehole._

She looked to the table, where a picture of her and her husband did their first dance. Itwas so blissful then, so…simple. Then she was done with business with Magnussen. Then she still could have a choice about keeping the baby.

Oh yeah, she knew all about the baby. She knew that she was at least eight weeks along. She also knew that this baby has also brought a whole unwanted load of problems to her doorstep. These problems could have been sorted quietly if Sherlock and his brilliant bloody mind had shut his mouth.

She sighed. It really wasn't Sherlock's fault. It was that sadistic arsehole Magnussen

Of course he caught wind of this and of course he knew the full story. He, after all, was a part of it.

When he explained his sudden appearance, it all made sense.

 _What does this "mission" entail?" Mary was shaking as she sat down._

 _Oh, the usual. I want you to take someone hostage. Then when I get what I want, I want you to kill him"_

 _There is no beating around the bush with you is there?"_

 _Magnussen reclined in the chair, cocking his head to one side. "It is a British concept that I do not wish to take a part in."_

 _Mary hated these meetings. To begin with, way back when AGRA was still a thing, they were just a necessity to go through to get paid double the usual rate. But that was when her partners were still alive._

 _She tried to break the deal with him, but Magnussen refused to let her go. He threatened her with the fact that he could reveal to the world that she, personally, was the one who started the attack at the Embassy in Georgia._

 _She had no choice but to agree to his demands. She continued being an assassin whom killed people who knew more deadly information about Magnussen than he had about them, except this time with no pay included and secret that would destroy her relationship with John._

 _The last time she met him was when he finally let her go unless she did one more thing. That was eight weeks ago._

 _This target is in great importance to complete the final part of my plan, the only problem is that he is bothering me immensely and starting to be more worth to me dead. If you complete it I will leave you to your depressing sad life with your husband."_

 _Or else?"_

 _Or the more exciting option is that I will reveal to the whole world who you really are, and more importantly, who your child's father is."_

 _She gulped. "Alright then. Who is the target?"_

 _He gave Mary a chilling dead smile. "Sherlock Holmes."_

 ** _Hey my bokkies_**

 ** _So it did seem that I managed a chapter before Christmas!_**

 ** _And yes I am evil incarnate._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl_**


	6. Chapter six

John waited by the entrance to Magnussen's head-office. The crowd was slowly thinning out, leaving only a few rushing around to meet deadlines. No one paid any attention to him, which was a relief. John would have no idea what to say if someone asked why he was there, because he himself had no idea what on earth he was doing there either.

That was Sherlock's way though, just texting a random location and expecting John to pitch up. Of course John always came; his curiosity always got the better of him. Sherlock could constantly rely on John's predictability.

When John got Sherlock's text, he was surprised that his friend had the gall to even acknowledge him after the argument they had. Sure, everything calmed down when Magnussen left but the air was still tense. Magnussen's presence just changed the type of tension, almost as a reminder that he is the one who they should fight against.

John left a few minutes after, not being able to muster any conversation starters. When he was walking down the stairs he could hear Mrs Hudson arguing with Sherlock. He caught a few words like "Idiot", "Talk to him" and "text". There was no doubt who they were talking about.

Within a few minutes, John got a message:

 _Meet me at CAM Global News HQ at 9_

 _SH_

He rolled his eyes. John was not going to do this. He would not! John was about to pocket his phone when it vibrated again.

 _Also don't bring any sort of weapon._

 _SH_

John typed back:

 _I am not coming_

 _JW_

He felt proud at the fact that he would not fall for Sherlock's every whim and make a fool of himself.

The phone beeped again

 _You are bored with home life. You are coming_

 _SH_

XXX

And now John was there, standing like the fool he is, falling for Sherlock's every whim and that made him angry.

"Magnussen's office is on the top floor, just below his private flat." Sherlock appeared beside him, giving John a fright. "There are fourteen loads of security between us and him. Two which are illegal in this country." He turned to his friend, his heart skipping a beat, but his face not betraying anything.

 _Sherlock, no. Just no. This is definitely not the time to be like this._

"Wonder how we are going to get in?"

"So that is what we are doing?" John asked. Even though he trusted Sherlock with his life he would not be stupid enough to break into an office that belonged to one of the country's most dangerous men.

Sherlock frowned. Why else would they be there? "Of course that is what we are doing. Come on let's get some coffee. I sure need it."

They silently walked over to the café and ordered the coffee. John noticed that Sherlock was a little bit jumpy. He was about to ask when the barista gave them their coffee.

Sherlock paid and they walked.

Sherlock nodded his head towards an elevator that moved to the very top floor. "That is Magnussen's private lift. It goes straight to his penthouse and office." They got onto the escalator. "Only he uses it and only his key card calls the lift. Anyone else who tries, security is automatically informed."

Sherlock pulled out an ordinary key-card. John realised that Sherlock certainly didn't get that legally. He looked around to see if anyone else could see it.

"Standard key card for the building. I nicked it yesterday. It only gets us as far as the canteen." He turned to John and asked:

"If we use this card on that lift what do you think will happen?"

John felt a bit thrown off by the question. "Um, I suppose the alarm would go off and you would be dragged away by security…"

"Exactly."

"…Taken to a small room somewhere and get your head kicked in." John finished, purposely saying that aloud just to see if Sherlock got the message about how angry he still was with him.

"Do we really need so much colour?"

"It passes the time." He replied, with that bit of sass that only John Watson could pull off.

Sherlock ignored him and continued. "If I then do this," He took his phone out and put the key card on the phone. "If you press you key card long enough it will corrupt the magnetic strip; the card stops working. It's a common problem. You never put your key card and phone in the same pocket. So what would happen now?"

"The card stops working."

"But it doesn't read as the wrong card now. It registers as corrupted. And if it is corrupted, how do they know that it is not Magnussen's?"

John stood in amazement at his friend as he continued to discuss his plan. John should have been used to this by now, but this particular case really took some thinking. Just like the first day he met Sherlock, the only words that came to his head to describe him was 'Brilliant'. He then remembered why he fell in love with him. All of this excitement, the adventure of the case, all of this made John feel twenty years younger. In that second he was prepared to elope and leaving his crappy life behind. He was about to tell Sherlock when his friend started to walk forward to the key pad. He placed the key card on the scanner.

John stood beside him, bemused. "You know you don't exactly look like Magnussen."

"Which in this case that is a considerably advantage."

This was the part Sherlock was dreading. He knew how much it would break John's heart. In some dark part of his heart, he actually wanted John to feel the hurt that he felt when John left him.

 _No Sherlock. This is purely for a case, remember. Now smile._

He had to wait only ten seconds before the voice came from the other side of the intercom.

"Sherlock you complete loon! What are you doing!?"

John nearly dropped his cup. Janine. "Hang on. Is that…?" John was about to come into the camera's view when Sherlock pushed him away.

"Hi Janine." He leaned into the camera, his voice lowed into a more gravely tone. "Come on let me in."

"I can't. You know I can't." The Irish voice replied through the intercom. "Don't be silly."

Now was the time. He hated the idea of doing it. He hated it so much. But if it meant taking down a criminal then he had no other choice.

"Oh don't make me do it out here, in front of everyone."

John, still holding the cups, had no idea what was happening. He was getting some interesting stares from some of these people. It was in the least awkward.

"Do what in front of all these people?" Janine was just as confused as John was.

Sherlock took a deep breath. It wasn't like he _really_ was going to do it. But he needed to for the case. He didn't look to John, as he would usually do for confirmation. He just had to pull the box out and propose.

Yup that was the brilliant plan all along. He was very happy when he heard that Magnussen's PA was Janine, because it opened up doors for him he didn't even know that he wanted.

If he proposed the she would surely want to bring him up and celebrate. And he knew that she would say yes. She has been dropping all sorts of hints to him that past month.

He picked the box out of his coat pocket and opened it up, giving a cute smile. Janine gasp could be heard from the other side of the intercom.

John, poor John, had no idea this was going to come. He nearly dropped the cups when he was hit with this news. His heart dropped down into the depths of his soul. All thoughts of a new life with Sherlock left his head. He really had moved on.

Sure enough the elevator opened up. Sherlock's fake smile dropped from his face as he walked to the elevator. He had to act like he usually did.

He turned to his friend, his face visibly distraught. Sherlock was starting to realise that he maybe should have let him in on this little act, but that, as we all know, is not Sherlock's style.

"You see as long as there are people, there is always a weak spot." He turned to get into the elevator when John grabbed his arm.

"Janine."

"Yes Janine is Magnussen's PA. That was the whole point."

John felt a tiny bit of relief he was not going to lie. _But still…_

"You just proposed so you can break into an elevator?!"

"Yeah," Sherlock got into the elevator. "It was a stroke of luck meting her at your wedding. You can take some of the credit."

"Jesus Sherlock!" John knew that Sherlock had stooped low before, but this was a new record. There is literally nothing Sherlock would do to get something he wanted. It made John think of all the times he was used as a guinea pig. The first one that popped into his mind was that day back in Dartmoor where Sherlock used him as a tester subject to see if one of his deductions was right about the Hound. That wasn't fun at all.

John threw the cups away and entered the elevator. There was something that was bothering him; he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"So I assume you are going to break up with her."

"Yes, of course. There is only so far this ruse can go, John. I imagine that she would want to anyway when I tell her that I was using her."

John couldn't help but to be pleased. _There is still hope yet_. He glanced down at Sherlock's pocket where the ring was held.

Then it hit him.

"Sherlock can I see the ring?"

Sherlock pulled the box out of the coat pocket and handed to John without a word. The box seemed to be worn down a bit, like it had been touched constantly. John inspected the ring. It was an elegant ring. It had a small diamond set in an elegant design. The band was polished gold, with a circler design etched into it. It looked familiar.

"If you were only going to use this as a ruse, why buy such an expensive ring?"

Sherlock froze. "How do you know that it is expensive?"

"I may not be the great Sherlock Holmes, but I am also not an idiot. When I went shopping for an engagement ring, I saw one like this in the window of one of the shops. If I remember correctly, it cost more than my life is worth. So why did you buy such an expensive ring?"

Sherlock felt his cheeks warm up. "It was a cheap knock off that I found, that is all." He grabbed the box back from John, snapped it shut and shoved it back into his pocket.

 _Only if John knew who it was really for._ Sherlock fiddled with the box, like he had done thousands of times before. He remembered when he brought it. It was when he came back from destroying Moriarty's underground network, before he saw John for the first time in two years. It was when he swore that he would never leave him alone again. Sherlock was prepared to make the commitment, but, as it turned out, John wasn't.

 ** _Merry Christmas my Bokkies! My pressie to you._**

 _ **I hope y'all have a brilliant day and pray that Santa fulls your** **stockings full of chocolate and fandom thingabobs.**_

 _ **Love from thecapefangirl**_


	7. Chapter seven

She made her answer, in fact she was at Magnussen's very own office to give him that very answer. She, like him, liked to visit her targets in their private homes.

She checked around the corner, only to see Janine at the computer. Mary wasn't surprised at this revelation. In fact she incorporated it into her plan.

You see, Mary made friends with Janine while she was still doing house calls to Magnussen's victims. Janine just became Magnussen's new PA at the time, and they could not avoid the occasional conversation. Janine just thought that Mary went there to get extra money for some articles Mary could get all sorts of information about Magnussen from her, and she proved be very useful. For instance Janine was showing Mary some things that she found out on the computer, unconsciously give Mary the password and a few interesting documents.

They became close over time and Mary stopped looking at her as a tool and more as a friend. It kind of hurt Mary that she had to knock her friend out, but there was no other way around it.

Mary poured some of the liquid over a rag, pinching her nose to make sure that she didn't inhale any of the fumes.

She snuck quietly behind Janine, who was staring at the elevator. Mary knew that meant someone was coming up and she had to act fast. She pounced onto Janine, with one arm strangling her neck while the other was forcing the rag over her nose and mouth. Luckily she went out like a light and collapsed onto the floor.

Mary ran towards Magnussen's office. She didn't bother with the niceties as she threw open the door in.

There Magnussen was, meditating in the middle of the room. Or to the unknowing eye, you would think that he was meditating. Mary knew different. She knew that he was in his Mind Archives. She called it that because unlike a mind palace which contains all sorts of information, the Mind Archives solely focuses on every person Magnussen had ever met or will ever meet, which to Mary seemed like the whole world.

"Magnussen!" Mary had the satisfaction of seeing him jump at the sudden intrusion. Mary pulled out her gun, and pointed it at Magnussen's face.

"What-what are you…" He began as his eyes widen with fright. Mary had to smile. That was his weakness. He couldn't afford to have bodyguards in fear of them learning too much so he was virtually unprotected. That was his mistake to blackmail an assassin, because how all of the information in the world would not protect him from a bullet.

"I have considered your offer and decided to give you my answer."

She cocked the pistol as he raised his arms in surrender.

"Pl…please…do…don't do this."

"Why are you so afraid Magnussen? Did you realise that blackmail does not work once the person holding it is dead?" She gave a humourless laugh. "I had no idea why I haven't done this before!"

"Ple..please…anything."

She tutted, "No the time for that is over. I am done doing your dirty work and I am done with you holding this over me. Once you are dead I can go back to living a normal life, free from you breathing down my neck. As far as society knows, this baby is mine and John's and the AGRA team all died in the Embassy. I am not Roselind the assassin, but Mrs Mary Watson, loving wife to Dr John Watson."

Magnussen stopped shaking as his horrible grin stretched across his face. Mary suddenly felt worried. _Is this all an act? Does he really have security? Was there a silent alarm that I don't know about?_

"Oh Mary." He purred. "You don't know, do you? The truth about your husband."

Mary was refusing to listen to his words. She had to shut him up. But she was curious.

"What about him?" Her voice cold.

"Oh you really don't know. Oooooh this is precious." He started to laugh like a maniac.

Mary pushed the gun between his eyes, finger on the trigger. "Tell me, you son of a bitch."

He stopped laughing when he saw the seriousness in her eyes. "Fine, fine I will tell you. Your so called loving husband is cheating on you."

Mary's heart sank. _No! he is just lying to you to throw you off course!_ She told herself. Yet she knew deep down that there was some semblance of logic in what he said.

Married life was not as sweet as she thought it would be. After the wedding and the honeymoon, John was distant and cold. She could tell that he there was an internal struggle and that he was keeping something from her, but as she wasn't the perfect truthful wife, she decided to keep quiet and hope that whatever he was keeping from her was not serious.

But _cheating._ No that wasn't something that she expected from something from John. _But then again Mary, you haven't been that faithful either._

"I found out..."

"I don't care how you found out. What I want to know who she is!" She deepened the push. She felt her heartbreak as she accepted the fact that John was in love with someone else.

"She?" Magnussen was confused for a few seconds, as if it was blindingly obvious to him. "Oh no, Mary, the person is not a woman."

There were many things that Mary was willing to accept, but John in love with a man. No. That was not possible! The only man whom John loved as much as her was…

"Oh. My. God!" Her hands trembled so much that she nearly dropped the gun. No no no no!

"Tell me that you are lying!" Tears started to well up in her eyes. She wasn't mad at John. She was mad at herself for being so foolish for not recognising the signs earlier. Maybe it was because she knew the truth, but didn't want to admit it because she wanted to keep the illusion of a happy relation.

She struggled to keep a hold of the gun, trying to keep her emotions under control. "This doesn't change things, Magnussen except by making me angry. Very angry."

"Please please!" He begged as backed up to the wall. "This won't hide change the truth…"

He was cut off by a deep gravelly, one she knew so well from behind her. "If you are going to commit murder might I suggest changing your perfume, Lady Smallwood."

XXX

Oh how Mary wanted to kill him. She wanted to watch the lights go out of his eyes as he fell down on the floor.

But she didn't. That would have meant that she did Magnussen's bidding. If Magnussen wanted him dead, she would do anything in the world to protect him.

And of course, he was still a dear friend and it would have killed John to see his friend die again. That would be the worst to see, because this time John would still cling onto some hope that Sherlock would rise from the dead. He would become more distant than before and she would have to bear that weight of guilt.

Mary was on the way home when she got the call from John.

"Mary! Mary it's Sherlock! He-he has been shot!"

"Oh my God, John!" She upped the volume in her voice, hoping it sounded convincing.

"The ambulance had taken him to the hospital. I am going with him."

"Ok I will come in a couple of hours, when everything has died down." She could hear John wincing. _That was probably the wrong phrase to say._ "There is no use of me being there, with the both of us worrying. I will see you later."

John hesitated for a moment, "Ok see you later." And he hung up.

Mary felt her head spin. She knew that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. She couldn't confront John without revealing that she learnt it from Magnussen and opening a whole can of worms, but she couldn't stay in this marriage while she knew the truth. She silently cursed Magnussen. This wouldn't have happened if she just killed him.

Alas, there wasn't much she could do about it. She had to change plans and adapt to the new situation.

XXX

John sat in the reception area, feeling a whole mix of emotions. He would not know what he would do if Sherlock died on him…again. This time there would be no way for him to come to life again.

It had felt like a million years when a doctor came to him to tell him the good news.

"It was quite amazing actually. He had no indication that he was alive, until suddenly his heart rate picked up."

John was elated. _Nothing can kill Sherlock. Not even Sherlock can kill Sherlock._ "Can I go and see him."

The doctor nodded. "He is asleep though so there won't be much chatter from him. His room is the first door on the left."

He made his way down to the room before the doctor stopped him. "Before you go, he did say one thing. A name."

 _Oh God. Was it mine_

"I think it was 'Mary'. Does that name mean anything to you?"

John was stunned. _That_ was the name that was the first thing on his mind. Knowing Sherlock, there had to be a very serious matter if it pulled him from the doors of death.

"Yeah, she is my wife."

 ** _My dear bokkies_**

 ** _Another chapter down! I promise you there will be more excitement during the next few chapters. I just had to get these past ones out of the way._**

 ** _***Note: Janine didn't know about Mary's past. She thought that she was bringing Magnussen articles for the newspaper for extra money._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl._**


	8. Chapter eight

He was the reason Sherlock woke up. He was the reason that made Sherlock fight for his life. Sherlock was still alive because he could not leave John with a liar, a woman who hid a serious secret from everyone.

Sherlock pushed himself up, wincing at the pain. Sure he could take the morphine, but he needed a clear mind if he was to do what he needed to do.

Sherlock was ready to leave, even if the hospital didn't think so. This forced Sherlock to go to Plan A: escape through the front door. The nurses should all be having their tea break in his wing. Of course they were on full alert, but there shouldn't be too many nurses patrolling the corridor.

Sherlock slipped out of the bed, closing his eyes for a few minutes to regain his balance. He took a deep breath and went forward to the chair where clothes awaited him. Wiggins, bless his soul, took it upon him to deliver some trousers and a shirt to his room. Sherlock struggled to dress himself without feeling a searing pain his chest.

After a few minutes he managed to be fully clothed. Now for his escape. That should be relatively easy. If he had his timing right, there was a nurse coming towards this corridor in five minutes. Luckily, the waiting area was relatively open with a few people milling around. He should be able to blend in.

Sherlock opened the door. To his surprise there was a group of nurses stationed in the waiting area, two men and two women. The men were chatting up the uncomfortable looking girls ( _They are obviously a couple_ Sherlock thought).

Sherlock swore under his breath. This meant Plan B. He didn't want to activate Plan B unless very necessary but as these nurses were not leaving any time soon, he had no other choice.

He turned towards the windows and mentally braced himself.

XXX

Sherlock got back to the apartment feeling worse for wear-that tends to happen when you climb out a window of a hospital while nursing a bullet wound. There was nothing more in the world that he wanted then was to have morphine rushing through his veins to alleviate some of the pain, but he couldn't. He couldn't afford to waste time when there was things to do and places to see.

He took a shower and dressed his wounds. He couldn't help but to smile what John would do if he saw Sherlock in the bathroom with makeshift bandages, about to faint from blood-loss and pain. John would be so angry and start ranting. Sherlock would argue back, trying to explaining himself. Then they would be face to face, so close they could almost kiss…

Sherlock shook his head as his heart sunk. Now was not the time more than ever. Mary should be the focus, not John.

Mary.

He knew there was something wrong with her, but _this_ …this was not to be predicted at all. She was an _assassin_. Sure he wanted to strangle Magnussen a few times, but he would never resort to killing him. But then again Sherlock didn't have anything that Magnussen could use as blackmail. Mary must have been doing some… _jobs_ for him in exchange to not telling her secret to the world. There was way more to this story than she let on. And Sherlock was hell bent on going to find out tonight.

Sherlock had a lot of time to plan in the hospital and he had to start by preparing the flat like it was before John had left, because after tonight he would need a place to stay.

XXX

The sky was a burnt black dotted with the bright lights of the stars by the time John reached the corner of Leister Gardens and Leister Terrace. He looked nervously at his watch. It was half past eight on the dot, just as Sherlock asked.

John maybe looking calm on the outside, but in reality he was a mess. There were so many unanswered questions, like why did Sherlock want him to be here, or why was Mary's and apparently Lady Smallwood's, perfume doing in his house? Was it connected to the fact that Sherlock said her name when he woke up? And why was the house reorganised to its original format? Did this all tie in with Magnussen?

 _Everything has to do with Magnussen now days. God, I am almost wishing for the days when Moriarty was around. At least Sherlock made sense then._

A homeless man, covered in dirty old blankets was near him, begging for money. He looked vaguely familiar. John was about to say something when the man lifted his face and said:

"Dr Watson."

"Wiggins is that you?" John asked surprised.

Bill Wiggins ignored him, "You are to go down the road," he pointed down Leister Gardens, "to the fifth door."

"Right, since when did you become Sherlock's messenger boy?"

Wiggins shrugged as he got up. "Work is work." He nodded towards the houses. "I suggest you don't keep him waiting. He isn't feeling that well."

John had to take a few moments to get over his disbelief. _Why does Sherlock have to be so mysterious all the time?! It wouldn't hurt for just once to be somewhere that I expect him to be. Just once! That's all I ask for!_

John muttered under his breath as he walked past _The Henry VIII Hotel_ to the next set of doors.

To the common eye, the front looked like a normal house, but John knew better. He could instantly recognise the painted windows and the fake doors.

 _Of course Sherlock had to choose a place like this!_

One of the doors was slightly ajar, a low light emanating from behind. John cautiously walked up to the door clutching his gun in his pocket, preparing for any attack.

When John opened up the door he was surprised to see that the room was plain, dirt covering every inch from years of neglect. The light source was a single, exposed bulb hanging from the ceiling. The floor rumbled unexpectedly, with the familiar sound of the underground train whistling by.

"Sherlock!" John called out. "Sherlock can you tell me what the bloody hell is going on!"

There was only silence.

"Sherlock, this is not bloody funny anymore! You've got the whole of Scotland Yard, and your brother might I add, trying to find you all over the place. They have…"

Out of the shadows in front of him a figure emerged.

"John you have finally come." His voice sounded a bit flat. Sherlock then proceeded to drop down.

"Oh God, Sherlock!" He dropped his gun and rushed to his friend's side. Sherlock's face was pale and his body was drenched in sweat. "You look awful!"

Sherlock waved him off, "No, I am fine."

"No you are not!" John pulled him up and pulled him to the exit. "You and I are going back to the hospital. What were you thinking!It looks like I will have to physically stay with you in that room until you get better."

"But John..." Sherlock tried to push him away but John's grip tightened on his coat.

John's expression hardened as he stopped. "Sherlock, for God's sake this can wait. If it is about Magnussen…"

"No! You don't understand, John. This is not about Magnussen." Sherlock paused. "Well maybe a bit. This is about Mary. Please hear me out. It is important."

John stiffened at his wife's name. He knew, far deep down in the recesses of his soul that she had some part to play in this story. "What about her?" He asked through gritted teeth.

Sherlock checked his watch. "We have time. You might want to sit down for this."

XXX

And Sherlock told him all he knew. He told him about his first thoughts on meeting Mary. He told her about finding her with a gun to Magnussen's head and he told him about how he escaped.

Once he finished, he bared a glance at his friend.

John's face was stoic, but he could see a single tear falling from his eye.

As much as Sherlock wanted to be with him, it killed him to see John breaking down. He didn't know how much it hurt him to see his significant other lying to his face about her whole life.

"Sherlock," he began after a few seconds of silence. "I don't want to believe you…"

Sherlock sighed. "I know." Sherlock checked his watch. "So that is why I set up this."

"What?" John asked

"This" Sherlock's phone started to vibrate. "She is here." He muttered. He turned to John. "I am sorry about this, but you need to sit on that chair. And," He quickly ran his fingers through his friend's hair. It was surprisingly soft. Sherlock's mind drifted to one of their first conversations.

 _I also wear hair product, it doesn't mean that I'm gay._

Only if he really knew.

"Hey!" John tried to swat Sherlock's hands away.

"Perfect."

Sherlock stepped into the shadows again, opening up his cell phone and made the call.

 ** _Hi Bokkies_**

 ** _That is it. I just wanted to say hi._**

 ** _Love thecapefangirl_**


	9. Chapter nine

The ambulance rushed away with Sherlock, its siren blaring so loud that could be heard not just down Baker Street but the whole of London. Usually John would have sat with Sherlock in the back, but that night he had another matter to deal with.

They stood outside, silence so audible that it wanted to make Mary scream. She knew that this would one day blow up in her face, but she wished it didn't have to be in this way, especially when there was a family to take care of. She thought she could have silently slinked away, but that was a bit impossible while she was two months pregnant.

John stared forward, not even bothering to look at his wife. She could see his fists clenched and him visibly trembling. The last time she saw him like this was when Sherlock came back to life after two years.

 _Sherlock._

"John," Mary began, cautiously choosing her next words, "It is my turn to ask you something."

No answer. His face expressing nothing other than anger.

She turned to face him, pulling her coat tight around her chest. "That night at his office, I learnt something interesting from Magnussen. About you, in fact. And it seems that I am not the only one harbouring a secret."

She saw John freeze, his eyes widening in panic. Mary felt a smug sense of satisfaction. The feeling went when she realised what this meant. This would lead to an inevitable end of their relationship. Their child, _her_ child would grow up without a father.

Yet, all things considered, with the fact that Magnussen knows the truth and that there are a few people out there who would like nothing more than to hurt her and her child, that should be the least on her mind.

"Do you want to know what he said?" She crossed her arms. "He said that you were having an affair. With a man, no less."

John's eyes widened. "Mary, I can explain…"

She cut him off, her voice louder. "And there is only one person in this whole wide world whom I can think of. So tell me, beloved husband mine, how long have you been cheating on me with Sherlock?"

John bent his head in shame, his cheeks blossoming into a bright red. He couldn't think of a reply. What could he say?

"How long." She hissed, anger boiling through her veins.

"The night after the wedding." He barely could get the words out of his mouth. "But it was nothing! We just kissed, that was all. We didn't do anything since."

She snorted. "Alright, if it meant nothing, then why did you start to act so cold towards me since our wedding night? Why did you ignore me throughout our honeymoon? Why did you always have some excuse in bed? Why, Why Why!" Before John could answer, Mary carried on.

"Do you know what I had to do to keep you safe from my past?" She rubbed her belly unconsciously. "I gave up so much to create a safe environment for us and now I find that it was all for _nothing_!"

John raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't my fault that you were an assassin for the most part of your life."

She snapped her head around, her eyes burning from the hot tears. "Do you think I actually chose all of this crap! Do you actually think that I chose to become Magnussen's hitman! I was given a bad hand in life, and I had to make the most out of it!" She pointed a finger in his chest. "I had to do some awful things to keep you from becoming front page articles."

"Whoa, wait a minute. Did you just say that you were working for _Magnussen_?!" John's hate for the man was expressed through that one word.

Mary froze. _Oh God!_ She had to leave. There were many things that John should know, but her dealings with Magnussen, professional and…and private, shouldn't be known. Especially about that one night two months ago…

"I have said too much." She stated abruptly. "I have explained everything on that." She pointed to the AGRA hard drive protruding from his jacket pocket.

She began to walk away and mumbled, loud enough for John to hear.

"It seems that both of us were liars."

XXX

 _A few weeks later…_

John helped Sherlock up the stairs, to much of Sherlock's dismay. He kept swatting his friend's hands away.

"I am fine John! I am capable of climbing a few stairs by myself!" He pushed himself from John's grasp into the flat.

"Sherlock, the fact that they let you out early is a miracle. You could at least just cool down for a few days before you start on your misadventures."

Sherlock sulkily went over to the couch and collapsed on it. "Fine." He huffed.

He was not in a good mood. Not since his little meeting with Magnussen at the café. He was irritable at the fact that he had to wait a few months until he could get his hand on the sly bastard.

Waiting…he did not like that word. He did not like the idea of doing nothing except patiently sitting until he could make his next move. The very thought bored him.

Sherlock looked at his friend through half-closed eyes. _Then again_ he thought _I could start on a new project in the meantime._

John had told him about his last conversation with Mary, everything from the reveal about John's sexuality to the fact that Mary was Magnussen's pet for a few years. And Sherlock was worried about that last bit especially. If Magnussen knew about their unofficial relationship, then things were going to get ugly. Magnussen could use this new 'pressure point' against them.

There was something else, though. There was something else that bugged him about Mary. The way she referred to Magnussen. Sherlock knew that she hated him, she was the one pointing a gun to his head after all, but there was an underlying tone of something else, that there was more to what she was letting on. She was very desperate to leave after John pointed out that she let Magnussen's name slip, which must have meant that there was another story that she hadn't told, and it won't be displayed on that hard drive.

That hard drive.

Sherlock was desperate to see what was on it, what secrets it hid, but he couldn't. It was John's choice if he wanted to read it or not. And anyways, he has been fiddling with it since that night, so it was impossible for Sherlock to steal it, much to his dismay.

Sherlock moved his body into a more comfortable position when he saw something…different.

It was the door to his room. It was partially open. His door was never partially open. It was either open or close.

Sherlock pushed himself up and walked towards the room. John gave him a questioning look.

"Ummmm, Sherlock? What are you doing?"

Sherlock didn't reply as he gently pushed open his door.

To the untrained eye, you would think that there was nothing different, but the detective knew better than that.

"You have been sleeping in my room." Not a question, a statement.

"Sorry, what did you say?" John asked as he walked up to Sherlock.

"You have been sleeping in my room."

And before John could protest Sherlock began with his routine:

He walked into the room and crouched down on his haunches. "On the floor are a faded shoeprint, about your size and the pattern matches the one that you are wearing. They lead to here," he pointed to the edge of the bed, "where they darken in colour, like someone stood for a longer period of time, and look closer," Sherlock walked towards the shoe print. "These two prints are facing towards the door and they seemed to swap places, as if they were either crossed or," Sherlock sat down on the bed, placing one foot on one print and lifted his other leg across the it, "you were untying your shoe."

He twisted around to the base of the bed. "I do not make my bed like this. I tend to tuck the end of the duvet under my mattress. You didn't remove it to get it clean, because I do not smell the washing-powder that we use. And talking about smelling." He picked up and sniffed a pillow. "This smells like your shampoo, and the bed smells like you. Need I say more?"

John stood bewildered. Yup, it was true that he did sleep in the bed for the past couple of nights. It was the only thing that prevented the nightmares from returning. And the flat could get quite lonely when Sherlock wasn't there; it almost made John feel like Sherlock was floundering about the place, being Sherlock.

"Well, I, um…" John rubbed the back of his neck. "You could say so…"

Sherlock could not help but to put on a small smile. "It's ok, John. I am not angry. In fact," he pushed himself onto his feet and walked over to the doctor. He gently slipped his arm around his waist, and in a low voice said, "I am quite pleased."

John blushed even harder. "Well, that is good then. There is nothing to worry about ." He pushed himself away from Sherlock and turned to walk out the door. Sherlock caught John's arm.

"John, I want to ask you if you want to stay in here tonight? In my bed? You are in here anyway…uh, we don't have to do anything, of course. I mean I am still recovering from my wound, and you are still not emotionally stable from your separation…" Sherlock stopped when he saw John's eyebrows rise and his lips twitch. "What I am trying to say is that…"

"Before you go and dig yourself in a deeper hole," John cut him off, "I will say yes. I would love to rather stay here…with you." He met Sherlock's gaze and gave a lopsided smile. Sherlock returned it.

John, for the first time in what felt like forever, was calm and generally happy. He enclosed the space between him and the detective, and leaned in for a kiss…

"Um, Sherlock?" A voice interrupted them.

They both froze.

 _For one minute! That is all I ask for! Just one minute!_

"Yes, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock sighed. "What is it that you want?" He lifted his head as John turned around. Mrs Hudson was holding a tray with three cups of tea and a plate with cake on it.

"I heard you come back, so I just came to check that you are alright. And to give you a cup of tea." She gave a grin as she placed the tray on the table. "It looks like you are settling back comfortably."

"Yes thank you, Mrs Hudson." Sherlock walked towards the tray, John in tow.

"So I take it that the room upstairs won't be needed?"

Sherlock and John looked at each other and smiled. "No I supposed not."

 ** _Happy new year my bokkies_**

 ** _Note that I have decided to change the rating, purely because of the events of the next few chapters. I just doing it to be on the safe side. _**

**_Love from thecapefangirl_**


	10. Chapter ten

**_Warning: Lemon ahead (or at least the beginning of one)_**

 _Two weeks later…_

John sat on the chair, fiddling with the hard drive for the forty-fifth millionth time. He was curious, very curious, on the secrets it held. He could finally understand everything.

He glanced at where his computer lay. It was booted up and ready to go. All it needed now was for John to insert it and everything would be revealed.

He got up and strode over to the machine. The hard drive awaited in his hand. He lifted towards the computer, ready to learn everything, and ready to finally make his decision about whether or not he should permanently separate from her.

"You are going to finally do it, aren't you?" Sherlock said from behind him. John turned around to see his lover leaning on the door frame with his arms crossed. He was wearing his purple shirt and black trousers and his a mess of curls. _He is looking a lot better_ John mused _He doesn't look as sickly and as pale as before._

And it was true. Sherlock was getting healthier every day, and his wound wasn't causing him any pain. The stitches were holding together, but there was going to be a permanent scar. This didn't bother John at all, in fact, secretly, he kinda liked it.

"Um…well…yeah, I suppose so." John turned back to the computer screen, clutching the hard drive into his hand. He took a breath. "I needed to know."

He inserted the hard drive half way into the port when he hesitated.

"John?" Sherlock walked up to beside him. He gently laid a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

John bent his head. "Do you think what she said is true? That if I read this I will stop loving her?"

Sherlock's heart stopped. Did this mean that John wanted a reason to move back with Mary? Did he start having cold feet about this relationship?

"Well, there is of course going to be things that you won't like to hear, and no doubt it would change your opinion about her. Why do you ask?"

"I want to have a reason to stop loving her, Sherlock. I want to not feel guilty when I see her and tell her that I am leaving her and our child for someone else. I want to know those secrets so that I can feel free to move on with my life. I know that it is selfish, but it is what I want." A silent tear streamed down his cheek.

Sherlock had no idea how to reply to that. He understood what John was saying, because Sherlock was feeling the same way. He did love Mary (she was the only one of John's girlfriends that he could stand) and he made a promise to himself that he was going to make sure that he would never intentionally direct harm on her. But he also loved, and was _in_ love with John. He wanted them to be together forever. He wanted to be the one to propose and have a huge wedding.

"John, I would love to give my opinion on this subject, but I can't. My opinion would be bias. This is something that you should decide."

"I know." John stared at the screen, hoping to God that maybe an email would pop up telling him what to do. But there wasn't.

He glanced down at the AGRA drive. So much information. The knowledge…

 _Information, knowledge..._

John abruptly stood up, nearly knocking Sherlock over. "I can't do this!" I threw the hard drive into a dark corner. "I have seen what knowing too much information has done to people. It slowly makes them want more and turns them into someone like Magnussen. It was what got her in this trouble in the first place. If I read this I will just be contributing to her problems. Her past should stay her past."

John looked up to Sherlock, who was completely bewildered. He wasn't going to lie to himself, he was worried. What if John would suddenly decide to re-join his wife and leave him behind?

"Well I can respect that."

John saw this worry in Sherlock's eye. Ever since they became a 'couple' Sherlock had become easier to read than a book.

John walked up and held his lovers hands. "Sherlock, I still love Mary, but not in that way. Not anymore. She deserves better than to be alone, especially while she is still pregnant. Even though I'm not going to be living with her, I still want the child to be born with two fathers, who love them incredibly hard." John squeezed his hands hard.

"Dr John Watson, is this a marriage proposal?" Sherlock gave him a sly smile.

John snorted, "What part of that was a proposal?"

"You just said that you want your child to have two fathers."

John kissed him. "Mr Sherlock Holmes you read into this way too much. Like you do with most things." Another kiss. "I may not be a detective, but I can tell that you might be the one who wants to get married."

"And you deduced this how?"

John slid his hand down the side of Sherlock's body, not losing eye contact. He put his hand in the detective's right pocket and pulled out the little box that held the ring which Sherlock used to propose to Janine.

He knew that there was something strange with Sherlock and the wedding ring. John noticed that Sherlock didn't take it back to the store and he seemed to have formed an attachment with it. Even Anderson could figure that out.

"There would be no reason for you to be carrying this around now, wouldn't it?"

Sherlock turned a bright red and tried to grab the box away from him, but John pulled his arm away just in time.

"John, give it back!"

"No, not until you ask me to be your husband." John laughed.

"Seriously?!" Sherlock tried to go for another grab at the box, but John whipped it away too fast.

"Ok, John Hamish Watson, will you be my husband."

John smiled and gave the box back to him. "Yes. I will."

Sherlock froze. "You really are being serious."

John nodded as he lifted his hand up, took his wedding ring off, finally ridding himself from commitment with Mary, and placed it on the desk. Sherlock popped the pox open and placed the golden band on his finger.

"I must say, I didn't think that something like this would actually suit me." He leaned over and kissed Sherlock again. "I love you so much, my dear Holmes."

"Hmmm. Show me then." His leaned in, his voice lowered rough and gravelly. His hands snaked around his fiancées hips.

John blinked. "Sorry?"

"You heard me." Sherlock kissed down John's neck. "I want you to show me how much you love me. Show me that you are mine."

John slowly caught on to what he was saying. He pushed his hips into Sherlock's. "Oh someone is getting insecure." John purred into Sherlock's ear, "Is there anything specific that you want me to do?"

"I have a few ideas." Sherlock slowly unbuttoned John's shirt as he deepened the kiss on his lips. John found that he needed kiss as if it was oxygen. His head spun and his pulse raced every time Sherlock softly grazed his fingers across his chest.

John had to pull away. "Sherlock, love, I needed to sit."

John and Sherlock fell on the couch, still in each others embrace. Sherlock started to unbuckle John's belt and John started with Sherlock's shirt.

 _I can't believe that I am doing this!_ Sherlock thought _After all these years together I finally get to have him to myself properly._

"Sherlock, dear…" Mrs Hudson called as she opened the door.

"GET OUT MRS HUDSON!" Sherlock cut her off. She squeaked with fright as she ran out of the flat, something cluttering.

"Sherlock that was rude." John scolded him, but he was smiling.

"I am sorry, but I have been dying to do this for a very long time and I am not going to let anything or anyone get in my way! And plus I am half naked, I wouldn't like to shock her."

"Sherlock Holmes, you went to Buckingham Palace in only a sheet. Since when did you have dignity?" John pointed out.

Sherlock replied only with a kiss. He rid John of his trousers.

"I am not very comfortable here." Sherlock whispered.

"Bedroom?"

"Bedroom."

 _ **Helloooooo my bokkies**_

 _ **I have to warn you that the next chapter is going to solely be pure smut. I just thought I should put that out there. I will put a warning at the beginning of the next chapter just in case.**_

 _ **Love from thecapefangirl**_


	11. Chapter eleven

_**Again...smut...Just warning...**_

There was no need for niceties as the two tumbled into the bedroom. Sherlock hurriedly undress himself, flinging his clothes onto the ground. John did the exactly same thing.

Once they finished, they both stopped, panting. Sherlock gazed at John, and John at him. John could feel the passion, the hunger, radiating from his lover. He could see the gleam in his eyes.

John was not going to lie to himself, he was nervous. He hadn't been so intimate with a man before, (God knows how much he _did_ want to, though) and he had no idea what to expect or what to do. He could feel himself shaking.

Sherlock knew this though. He walked up to John, their eyes still locked. He cupped John's cheek with one hand, while the other caressed his back. John could not help but to close his eyes and drink in the feeling of Sherlock's touch. The softest touch could send shivers down his spine.

"I know. I will be gentle." He then proceeded to kiss John passionately on his lips. John was more than willing to comply. He pushed his hips into Sherlock's, as if he had to feel every piece of his skin.

It was not long before he felt Sherlock's arousal rubbing against his. He bit back a moan. He hadn't felt this bit of pleasure in what felt like forever. He started to grip Sherlock's shoulders as the only means to hold his weak legs up.

Sherlock gave a chuckle. In John's ear he whispered, "Does it feel good?"

John's answer was a strangulate noise from his throat. His grinded a bit harder, hoping to sooth the hot throbbing. He would have cummed right there if Sherlock didn't intervene.

"Oh no, John." He pushed away, much to John's dismay. "The fun is only just starting. Lie on the bed."

John did just as he ordered. Sherlock leaned over him giving him a quick kiss on his lips. Then his chin. Then his neck. Then, painfully slowly down the rest of his body. John was getting impatient.

"Sherlock! Please…" John moaned.

"Good. Things. Comes. To. Those. Who. Wait." Sherlock said in between each kiss. Sherlock was enjoying this more than he was letting on. He liked seeing John squirm under his touch.

Sherlock continued to kiss down his stomach to the side of his legs. Sherlock had to grasp a hold of John's legs to stop them from moving. John was gripping the sheets in frustration. He had waited for too long for Sherlock to start playing with him.

John was about to complain when Sherlock took a hold of his cock and gently stroked it. John groaned when Sherlock hit a certain sweet spot. A little bit of pre-cum could not help but to spill over.

"Ju-u-st th-there." He stuttered.

Sherlock smiled. He locked eyes with his partner and he replaced his hand with his lips. His hand focused on his own cock, massaging it. The pleasure for him became intense, so much so that he felt that he would explode.

That was when John tightened the grip on the sheets, his hips jerked automatically. His breath hitched, trying to ride through the different feelings that rushed through his body.

Sherlock expertly manoeuvred his lips around his cock, his tongue trying to repeatedly hit the sweet spot over and over again.

John was barely holding it together when Sherlock pulled his last move on him. He started to hum.

The vibration flowed through his lips and throat. This forced John over the edge.

"OH MY GODDDDDDDDD! SHERLOCKKKKKKK…" John screamed as his climax hit him. He came harder than he had ever had when he was with Mary. Sherlock dutifully swallowed all of it. Then removed his lips from his member.

The sound of John's scream made Sherlock himself cum. And just like John, his orgasm hit him harder than it ever had before. He groaned, flinging his head back and squeezed his eyes shut as he climaxed.

Sherlock summoned the last bit of his energy to climb onto the bed next to his love, whom had collapsed onto the sheets.

They cuddled for a few seconds before Sherlock said: "I have an unexplainable need for tea at this moment."

XXX

"Jesus Christ, Sherlock. Where did you learn that?" John asked as he gingerly walked out of the room to make a cup of tea.

"I had to do a lot of undercover work in my time. One of them was working as a bartender in a male strip club. It is amazing what those men can tell about."

"You worked in a strip club!?" John exclaimed.

"Yes, he did. He was trying to find information about a sex trafficker."

"Jesus Christ!" John jumped up about ten feet, nearly breaking the mug. He turned to see Mycroft patiently waiting at the table. His umbrella rested on the table's leg. On his face was painted a rare grin.

John unconsciously pulled his gown tighter around his body.

"Not quite. Hello brother mine."

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock growled as he walked over to the fridge. "Shouldn't you be off providing protecting for other criminals?"

"Oh don't be like that." Mycroft snarled. "My job is my job. Anyway the reason I am here is to tell you that we are having a family Christmas this year."

Sherlock groaned as he shut the fridge. "Oh God, no."

"I know. But this time they have invited John and his wife," he shot John a look that told him that he was still committed to another, "along with us."

They both looked at John, who was visibly pale. He shook his head. "No no no. Thanks for the offer but I can't do that."

"Well John, there is not much of a choice. Mary has already accepted."

John's blood ran cold. "Fuck."

Mycroft got up. "You know how much I hate being the bearer of bad news, but there it is." Mycroft turned on his heel and walked straight out of the door, stopping only to say. "You might want to invest in thicker walls; the whole of Baker Street could hear what was going on in there."

 _ **My dear bokkies**_

 _ **I am sorry for this sudden addition to the story. I couldn't help myself.**_

 _ **Plus plot development.**_

 _ **Love from thecapefangirl**_


	12. Chapter twelve

Sherlock smirked when the call ended. He had finally got his Christmas present and he was dying to open it.

The Christmas gift was an invitation right into Appledore. Sherlock could finally get insight to that oh so precious information that he had kept to his darling self.

Of course there was a price, (there always is with Magnussen) and that price was information in return. Not just any information, but top secret government information and Sherlock knew exactly when and where he would get it…

XXX

"You seemed to be full of the joys of spring." John eyed Sherlock as they reached the Holmes house.

"It's Christmas." He replied, as if that answered everything.

He got out of the car and silently grimaced. There were still a few hours of hell that he would actually endure before he could open up his gift.

He hadn't told John, of course. Sherlock just knew that John would find some way to stop him, or refuse to go and he needed John when they go to Magnussen's. He just hoped that everything would go without a hitch.

"Ah, John, you go on ahead. I need to help Wiggins with unpacking the cab."

John lifted his eyebrow and sighed. John didn't particularly want to go in the first place, but to face everyone alone was even worse. But Sherlock had his adamant look on his face.

"Ok, just don't be too long." John turned and walked towards the house.

Sherlock whipped around to Wiggins. Sherlock insisted to his parents that he was to come. He spewed rubbish like, Wiggins is practically a part of the family, and he doesn't have a home to go to at Christmas. His parents were very soft and very, very easy to manipulate. He pulled out a little vial of powder from his pocket and shoved it into Wiggins's hand.

"You know what to do when the time comes."

Wiggins nodded. "Yes, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock looked wistfully towards the house. "Come on, let's face our yearly punishment." He said as he began to walk.

XXX

While this was all happening John had to face interrogation by the Holmes family.

Once he walked through the door, Sherlock's mother ran up to him and gave him a huge hug.

"Oh it is absolutely _lovely_ to see you again John. How have you been? You look wonderful! I am so glad you and your wife had decided to join us. Talking about Mary, where is she?"

"Um…" John thought hard about an excuse, any excuse, that would satisfy her. He couldn't just say 'Oh we are on a trial separation at the moment because I found out that she is an infamous assassin who did dirty jobs for a blackmailing sneaky bastard. She, on the other hand, found out that I am in love with your son, whom I am currently fucking.' (Although he really, really wanted to, just to see the look on her face). "She is…"

"Right here!" A voice sang from behind him. He whipped around and saw a face he hadn't seen in months.

She was very pregnant, her tummy stretching a red maternity dress, matching her dark red lipstick. She was struggling to carry a few presents up to the door. She did look rather pretty.

"John, why are you letting your pregnant wife carry things from the car?!" Mrs Holmes scolded.

"No no, I am fine." Mary said just as she tripped. John unfroze as his instincts took over to catch her. He quickly caught a hold of her arm.

"Are you alright?" John asked as he caught her eye. He could see the emotions that were conveyed through the look. His stomach churned when he realised that he had to break it off while she was still very vulrable.

It was a few awkward seconds before she looked away and answered. "Yeah, sure."

John let go of her and bent down to pick up the presents. He wordlessly carried them inside.

XXX

 _A few hours later..._

John took the cup of tea in his hands as he walked into the living room. He was shaking so badly that he was afraid that the tea would spill over the rim.

He walked in when he saw Mr Holmes and Mary talking. She was laughing, and smiling and generally being happy. He couldn't but help to twitch his lips at the scene. It was like it was just an ordinary day, before he knew about Mary's true profession, before he kissed Sherlock, before everything. And it hurt him that she would walk out here with a broken heart.

 _I hope she will understand. I hope that she will know that she and I can still be friends. I hope she would still allow me to be the father of our child._

Mary spotted John in the doorway and her demeanour completely changed to a cold stoic face. Mr Holmes looked back and saw John. He got the message and excused himself from the room.

Once he left, Mary turned back to the book and spoke. "So when are you two getting married?"

 _How did she know that? No one but Mrs Hudson and Wiggins knows about this._

"It's your ring that gave it away." She said, as if she read his mind "I don't remember you getting a ring, never mind such an expensive one as that."

John looked down at the glistening ring. He forgot to swap the ring back before he left, but Sherlock woke him up, and one thing led to another…

John sighed as he brought the tea for her. "That is what I wanted to speak to you about." She took the mug but not taking a sip. He dug around in his pocket and brought out the hard drive.

She turned visibly pale and turned away. "I know you don't love me anymore, John, but you do not have to be so cruel as to open it in front of me."

"Mary, look at me." She did what he asked. "I just wanted to say that, that I am sorry. I am sorry that I wasn't there to support you in the past months. I am sorry for leading you on. Mary, in reality I do love you, but…" John hesitated looking for a word.

"But you don't love me in that way, like you do with Sherlock." She finished. John could only nod.

"Right, and it is important for you to know that I forgive you for your past." He could see a single drop fall from her eye. "And it is just that, your past. I really don't think it is important for the future."

He took the hard drive and tossed it into the fire place. "It hurts me that we had to end our relationship like the way we left off." He took both her hands and looked into her tear stained eyes. "Could you forgive me for what I did to us?"

She started to sob and gave him a hug. "Of course, John, I forgive you."

A huge wave of relief washing over him, and his heart was lighter. He squeezed her tightly as he could before letting go. Mary picked up the tea and took a long sip of it, he hand unconsciously resting on her belly. John smiled

"Does that mean that I can still be an acting father to our child?"

Mary nearly spat out her tea. "Our child?" She asked.

"Yes, our child." He frowned at her. "Mary what is wrong?" He asked.

Mary went to sit down on the chair again. She had to tell him. Since they were not a couple anymore, he deserved to know the truth more than ever. But how could she do that to him, especially after making up with him? It would ruin him even more when he discovered the truth about the real reason she decided to kill Magnussen.

But he deserved to know the truth, even if it destroys him.

"Um John there is something you need…" She stopped suddenly as she felt woozy, her vision spinning and her stomach churning. She didn't even register what was happening to her before she was knocked out cold.


	13. Chapter thirteen

"Mary? Mary? Jesus Christ, Mary!" John felt her lifeless wrist for a pulse. There was a slight beat under his fingers. He let out a sigh of relief.

Behind him the door flew open and Sherlock was adjusting his coat. "Don't drink the tea."

 _I should have known!_ "Sherlock?" John's voice warned as he followed Sherlock into the kitchen. On the couch there was Mr Holmes, out like a light. Sherlock brought his hand in front of Mr Holmes's nose to test if he was breathing at all.

In the kitchen, the figures of Mycroft and Mrs Holmes were slumped onto the table in almost a comical fashion. Wiggins was leaning against the sink in the most nonchalant posture that would occur in a situation like this.

"Sherlock, did you just drug Mary!?"

"Don't worry." Sherlock said as he tested the breath of all of the other members. "Wiggins is an excellent chemist."

"I calculated her dose myself. It might have affected the little one. I will keep my eye on her."

Sherlock turned to John, straightening his coat. "He will monitor her recovery. It is more or less her day job."

John felt a little jolt of anger shoot through him. "What the hell have you done?"

Sherlock's face turned a slight shade paler. There really was no turning back now, and that frightened him a bit. This whole situation frightened him. He knew that this had to be done; he just wished that there was another way of doing it. His eyes stared into the middle distance.

"Deal with the Devil." He then began to tell John what he had done. About the meeting with Magnussen all those weeks ago, where he met with Magnussen and made his terms: swapping his brother's laptop filled with government information to get a private tour of Appledore. He told him about the phone call a few days back where they both agreed on the finer terms of the agreement over the phone.

Once Sherlock had finished, John flung his hands up exasperatedly. He stormed out of the room to fully process the situation clearly. "Jesus! Sherlock please tell me you haven't gone out of your mind!"

Sherlock put on leather gloves and bent down to remove the laptop from under Mycroft's head. "I will have to keep you guessing." He called out. Not a second later there was the familiar sound of helicopter blades whirling.

He couldn't help but to smile. The time was upon them.

"Ahh there is our lift." He tucked the laptop under his arm and turned to Wiggins.

"I suggest you also pretended to take the tea. If you are found out, you will be sent to prison for an infinite amount of time for leaking government secrets."

"No problem, Mr Holmes."

Sherlock gave him a curt nod and walked outside to join John, his heart pumping wildly in his chest. This was extremely dangerous. So dangerous in fact that he shouldn't have included John, but, as we all know, he would be totally lost without his blogger. It is amazing that within these past years he had become more dependent on him, less able to cope on big cases without his short friend throwing in sarcastic remarks and obvious questions to mix things up.

Sherlock pushed past his fiancé towards the helicopter.

"Coming?" He asked.

XXX

Appledore was much bigger than he thought. Much, much bigger. And somewhere in there was a whole room filled with blackmail that could screw up every person's life on the planet. Somewhere in there was probably a whole bookcase of information about Sherlock alone.

They both stared out of the window, not a single word exchanged between them. Sherlock could feel John tense and absentmindedly linked fingers with him. John squeezed Sherlock's hand hard.

They descended a few minutes later, onto the perfect green lawn. The lower the helicopter came down, the tighter the knot in Sherlock's stomach tense up. It was show time.

The landed on the ground and a tall dark bodyguard came up to the door and opened it for them. Sherlock barely acknowledged the man as he got out.

John came beside him and they both walked towards the house. John had to resist the urge to clasped Sherlock's hand, because he just knew that Magnussen was probably watching them right now.

And he was.

He stared these two idiots walking towards him from his pristine, cold room, on his bright white couch. He could not help but to smirk. They had no idea what they were about to do. They were about to be the catalyst into his last phase. With this last bit of information he could finally bring down not just the British grip on the world, but all of its allies and maybe some of its enemies. Like usual, people seem to forget the power of information. Information is not like having weapons or an army, because there is no way to defeat it once it gets out.

 _The only way is to kill the holder, like Rosalind…sorry_ Mary _and we saw how that panned out._ He suppressed a chuckle. _Oh she is going to regret that. After today she will wish she pulled that trigger. I am going to slowly drag her reputation through the dirt._

He turned his head back to the screen where that scene with the fire played over again. He loved the part where you could see the distressed look on Sherlock's face when he sees where Watson was. It was so filled with terror and stress to see the near death of his friend. It was how he imagined John's face when Sherlock faked his own death.

Magnussen heard the footsteps coming towards the room. Through the door were two of his guards, Mr Sherlock Holmes and Dr John Watson. They both had an indecipherable stare and the computer that had to have the dear information he was dying to get his hands on.

XXX

Sherlock sat down next to Magnussen, the laptop sliding off his body to the space between them. Sherlock glanced up and his heart nearly stopped when he saw the screen.

 _Oh of course it was him! Why am I not surprised?_

Sherlock decided the best way to play this was to play it calm and casual. So he started to talk about the scene.

He was grateful that when John turned around and saw it that he didn't have a panic attack, but he could see the anger and frustration take a hold of him. John's whole stance showed just how much he would have liked to hit Magnussen right there, but he restrained himself.

"Just look how you care about John Watson." Magnussen started. "Your damsel in distress."

At this John spun around to face him. He had to let off some of the steam that was building up inside of him.

"You… put me in the fire for _leverage_!"

"Oh I would have never let you burn, Dr Watson." He put his glass down and looked him in the eye. "I had people standing by. I am not a murderer…unlike your wife."

John felt his face burn and his hands beside him clench into fists. He was not going to reply. He was _not_ going to reply. He glanced over at Sherlock, who was giving him that look that said 'Cool your temper. This plan will go to hell if you say anything.' But John though that maybe that look was more for him than anyone else.

Magnussen followed John's line of sight to Sherlock. He smiled his creepy, stomach churning smile as he realised what had happened in the past months.

"Oh this is interesting. It does seem that she is back to Ms Morgenstern. Tell me, Mr Holmes, is being with a man as good as it is made out to be?"

Sherlock started to shake visibly, his face turning red as John's, out of embarrassment and anger.

 _I need that information! He is trying to mess with you. He is just trying to throw you off course._

He stared Magnussen dead in the eye. "Mr Magnussen, let us not waste any more time." He pushed over the laptop to him. Magnussen grabbed the laptop.

"Here is what I am getting for Christmas."

"It is not a gift, it is an exchange."

"Forgive me," he started to stroke the machine in a loving way. "But it seems that I already have it."

"It is password protected." Sherlock got up and straightened his coat. "In return you will give me every material pertaining to the woman I know as Mary Watson."

John looked at his friend in surprise. He thought that they were still there for the letters from Lady Smallwood. He would give up his case for a woman that he gave up. John felt a twinge of guilt strumming in his chest. No matter what happened, Sherlock will always protect her, as if she was a dear sibling, but John was not that…loving. It does seem that Sherlock for once still had more love in his heart for Mary than John would ever have again.

"Oh she is bad that one." Magnussen replied, his mind running through the profile of her. He had done it many times before, but it was fun reading through all of her exploits. "So many dead people. You should see what I have seen."

"No." John replied instantly. In reality, he really didn't give a fuck about her past. She was still someone he respected and her past is her past. "I really don't need to see."

"You might enjoy it though. I did." He clasped his hands together, contemplating what he should say next. He could ruin her once and for all for payback on that little stunt she pulled. He grinned. He could make this fun.

"There are so much more sections besides her just killing people. My personal favourite was how she got pregnant. In fact it is my favourite of all the stories."

John froze. "What. Did. You. Just. Say." He said through gritted teeth.

"Oh you heard exactly what I just said."

John was so close to punching him in his stupid idiotic face. "What do you mean that you liked the story where she got pregnant?"

Magnussen ignored his comment, continuing from his side. He was enjoying this fully. "Do you know why it is my favourite story?"

"Humour me." John's voice was deadpan.

Magnussen leaned forward. "It is my favourite because for the first time in my life, I was the one who also took a part in the act."

 ** _Hi ho my bokkies_**

 ** _I am so friggen tired at the moment, so I apologise if I had made any mistakes. It's just been a hectic week since I am back for my last year of school (yay!)_**

 ** _So YEAH. I need to say that I have no idea when I will publish again. Hopefully it is next week sometime._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl._**


	14. Chapter fourteen

_A few months before…_

 _Mary sat in the waiting room at Magnussen's headquarters, twiddling her thumbs nervously. She was for once and for all going to tell Magnussen that no one else in the world had the guts to do: take his blackmail and stick it up his fucking arse. It will be a good feeling when she finished. How she will do this? Let's just say she had a few recordings of their conversations from the past. It was going to be difficult to pull off, but if she played her cards right, she would never have to worry about this crap ever again._

 _"_ _Magnussen will meet you in a few minutes." Janine's Irish lint brought Mary back into reality. She was holding two mugs of tea in her hand and handed one over to Mary. She took the tea gratefully._

 _"_ _Thanks." She said as she took a sip from what her mother always said was God's greatest gift to humanity._

 _A few minutes later Magnussen entered the room. Mary could feel her pulse quicken. She was still a bit afraid about the outcome, though. You could never be to certain with Magnussen._

 _He gave her his iconic horrifying smile. "Ah what brings you here Ms Morstan?"_

 _Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. "That is a matter which I would like to speak to you in private."_

 _Magnussen stood back to allow Mary to walk past her into his office. She did not meet his eye as she walked past him, but she knew that he was staring at her. It took everything in her to not turn around and run out there instantly. But she had to do this, not just for herself, but for her soon-to-be husband._

 _Once she made it to the room and sat on the chair, her back rigid. Magnussen closed the door._

 _"_ _So what brings you here today?"_

 _Mary gulped. "I-I," she cleared her voice. "I am here to tell you that I am done working with you."_

 _Magnussen raised his eyebrow. "Again? How many times is this now? Seven? Eight? I have lost count. My dear Mary," He clutched the chair she was sitting on. She could feel her spine crawl with his breath touching the back of her neck. "You know that it is impossible. Just think about what your fiancé would think about his wife-to-be is not an orphan or an innocent nurse, but in fact an assassin. Just think of the whole of England knowing that there was a murderer hiding in plain sight."_

 _"_ _Yes, but this time I have something to counter back with."_

 _"_ _Oh is that so?" He said as he loosened his grip of the chair and strolled around to face her, trailing his fingers down the arm of the chair, occasionally brushing them against Mary's arm. When he faced Mary he leaned in very close._

 _She hated when he did that, but before she couldn't do much about it. If she even breathed the word "sexual assault" to the police, she would be chucked into prison without a flick of his finger. He had so much fucking power that he abused it made her physically sick to even know him. She couldn't stand up to him before, but now, now she had the evidence to get his arse in prison._

 _Mary nodded, avoiding his eyes as much as was humanly possible as she brought out her phone. She unlocked it and found the file with the recordings. She played back a conversation they had a few weeks back, when he asked her to dispose of a snooping journalist._

 _"_ _If you take me down, I swear to God I will bring you with me." She leaned back, and smiled. She slowly felt her confidence grow within her. She knew that he wouldn't take that chance to reveal her if it meant jeopardising his position. "And we don't want that now do we?"_

 _He cocked his head as he pushed away from her, much to Mary's relief. "Well Ms Morstan, I am impressed. I truly am."_

 _Mary felt a blossom of hope growing inside of her. She allowed a sly smile stretch across her face. This meant the end of her enslavement to this maniacal, blackmailing bastard and she could finally be left alone without having to look over her shoulder._

 _"_ _Really? Oh well, if that is the case, then, we can go our separate ways…" She was about to get up, when she felt his grasp on her arm._

 _"_ _What the Hell!?" Mary exclaimed. She tried to pull away from him, but his grip tightened on her arm. It felt like he was cutting off her blood supply._

 _He let out a low chuckle. "Oh dear, dear,_ _ **dear**_ _, Mary! Did you really think that it was going to be that easy?"_

 _"_ _What do you mean?" The more she tugged the harder he gripped her. He leaned forward closing the gap again. She tried hard to squirm away from him. If learning from being in a few torture sessions had taught her anything, it was not to show fear. But this time it was especially difficult._

 _"_ _Oh what I mean is that it is going to take a lot more than a threat and a recording to deter me."_

 _"_ _But…" Mary began, but Magnussen cut her off._

 _"_ _But what? You thought that you could take someone like me down with that? My dear," his voice dropped low as he whispered in her ear, "you must be more delirious than I thought."_

 _Mary wanted to scream loudly. She wanted to take out the hidden knife in her boot and stab him to death with it. But all she could do was to glare at him._

 _"_ _You want to know why that wouldn't work? Well," He traced his fingers through her hair and down her neck. Mary took everything in her to not throw up. "You see, I have a grip over most of the police force and the judicial system. Every single one of them has a nasty dirty secret that they wouldn't want to get out. Some have little ones, like cheating on their partners, or they lied to get into a group of friends, while others have committed some serious offences like murdering someone, or robbing money from a bank. All of those secrets are equal in their eyes though, and none of them want to get it out. All information comes trickling back to me and a very few actually know about that._

 _"_ _So if I tell the world about your misadventure, none of them are going to take notice of your claims, or if they do, they will say that you are making wrongful accusations about me. Each and every one of them are not going to take the chance for their lives to be ruined. I hopefully made my point."_

 _Mary's heart fell down into the dark depths of her soul. She had completely ruined her chance. All of her cards have been dealt and he had the stronger hand. He was going to destroy her reputation without mercy and take all of the winnings with him._

 _"_ _Mary this is the last time you defy me. I am tired of going through this every time with you that you cannot leave me until I say so. I am tired of making threats to scare you. So I am going to deliver on them."_

 _Mary's face paled, "No! Please no!" Her head was flashing through with a thousand of images of John and their life. They were supposed to have a normal life without any of this crap in it. She also had a brief glimpse of Sherlock, fighting for her freedom but coming to no avail._

 _Magnussen picked his phone out of his pocket and started to dial a few numbers._

 _"_ _Please no Magnussen! Please I will do anything!"_

 _Magnussen stopped before he pressed the last number. Mary saw the wheels turn in his head, and that seemed to scare her more than anything else._

 _He put the phone down. "Anything you say."_

 _"_ _Yes I will kill whoever you want."_

 _"_ _Oh Ms Morstan, we have tried that before, and look how that turned out. Although," He tapped his fingers against his leg. "I do like the sound of you begging." He gave her that grin, that goddamn grin. It was the sickest one she has ever seen._

 _That was when Mary realised what she had done. He seriously couldn't be suggesting what she thought he was suggesting. "No no no. Anything but that! Please do NOT make me do that!"_

 _"_ _Well you have that or I will have your fiancé killed and have his death blamed on you. How does that sound."_

 _She felt bile rise in her throat and her stomach violently churn. She had to either give herself up or John, and she was more afraid for him than for her reputation. Her world had crashed around her and there was only one way to survive it._

 _She bent her head in shame. "I will go with option one." She barely managed to say._

 _"_ _Oh sorry, I didn't catch that." He cupped his ear._

 _"_ _I said I will go with option one!" She said forcefully._

 _He smiled, "Oh I thought so. Meet me at my house around eight. Oh and if you have any thoughts about skipping our arrangement, remember I will have one of my other assissins have a sniper trained on John Watson. Now leave me."_

 _Mary simply stormed out of the room and slammed the door._

 **Hi ho my Bokkies**

TRIGGER WARNINGS **for the next chapter, if you didn't get it from the end of this one. It is no doubt going to make some people uncomfortable and queasy and I do apologise for that in advance (I do not know if that is going to be from my inexperienced writing on such matters or from the actual content.)**

 **I could really do with some comments about absolutely anything about my writing.**

 **Love from the capefangirl!**


	15. Chapter fifteen

_The evening would have been perfect for Mary, that is if she didn't have face the evening entertainment at Magnussen's._

 _She stared at the assortment of small, easily concealed weapons. There were vials of poison, mini guns, syringes, daggers. Anything you could think of, she had. She wondered how she could smuggle any of this in without arousing suspicion. The daggers would be too obvious and cumbersome, and how could she manage the syringes without getting herself stabbed in the process._

 _She closed the chest and collapsed on the ground. She wanted to burst out in tears at the thought of having to do what Magnussen had asked her to do. She was on the verge of walking home right then and telling John everything, when an idea formulated in her head._

 _She scrambled to her feet and to her closet, throwing the doors wide open. In there were all her disguises from past years: a doctors uniform, a policewoman outfit, a few wigs here and there. She dug around until she found a small case at the back of the wardrobe._

 _She blew the dust from the top and opened it to reveal an assortment of hair accessories. At the top of the pile were two lavishly decorated hair pins. Well to the untrained eye it appeared so. The red jewels that adorned the top of the pins could be removed. The tips revealed a vial that could hold small dosages of potent liquids. All she had to was stick it his neck and let gravity do the rest._

 _She felt that flutter of hope again. She was going to pitch up alright. She was going to make sure that it was going to be a night to remember._

 _XXX_

 _Mary was pulled up to the front of Appledore in Magnussen's private limo (he had to make sure she arrived safely, of course). Mary adjusted her dress. It was an amber and brown patterned dress. It was sleeveless, showing the slightest cleavage._

 _She was not going to make the same mistake again by showing her hand too early. She was a brilliant liar, she could make it look like what she felt earlier in the day. When Magnussen was at his most vulnerable, she was going to use her secret weapon._

 _Magnussen was waiting outside for her to disembark the limo, his face, for once, was a complete poker face. He was wearing a new black Italian suit, lined with golden-coloured silk along the cuffs and the neckline. He casually put his hand in his pockets, leaning on one side._

 _Mary got out of the car, being very careful to not stumble out on her weak knees. She patted the pins that were clipping back her hair, revealing ruby red dangling earrings. Her head was held high and her face was painted with a stern, disgusted expression._

 _She walked up to Magnussen wordlessly._

 _"_ _Good evening Ms Morstan." He greeted. Mary just gave him an angry stare._

 _"_ _Let's just get this over and done with." She said through gritted teeth as she pushed past him. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer to his ear._

 _"_ _Oh eager are we?" He whispered in her ear. "Oh so very eager."_

 _Mary kept her head high as he ran her fingers through her hair. She was shaking so badly that she was certain that she would faint right then. But she could imagine what he would do to her lifeless body and that freaked her out to no end._

 _"_ _Before we start with the evening's entertainment, I would like to invite you in for dinner."_

 _XXX_

 _Mary sat at the furthest point at the table as possible, which was difficult since it was a small café-type round table. It would be impossible to escape his grasp if he reached across the table. On the plates in front of them were salmon on a bed of rocket and her glass was full of champagne._

 _"_ _Ms Morstan, I hope the food is to your liking."_

 _Mary didn't reply, except she just gave him a sulky stare. She was leaning back with one arm across her chest, while the other hand was playing with the food. The smell of the salmon was not helping her queasy stomach._

 _The clip was weighing heavily on her hair. She was itching to yank it from its clasp and stab it in his vein, but that wouldn't work as Magnussen's bodyguards standing behind him, glaring at her. It gave her the impression that they were daring her to make a move. She wondered how they came to be there in the first place and what dirt he had on them._

 _"_ _Oh don't be like that." He purred._

 _Mary kept silent, so Magnussen continued. "I bet I will be a better lover than your soon-to-be husband."_

 _Magnussen knew that he could do whatever he wanted to her because her fiancé's life was at stake. It made his feel extremely aroused at the thought that he had this power over this pathetic woman, and she would have to fall over to his every whim. He just imagined what he could to her to satisfy these urges that were bothering him immensely. And why would he deal with them himself if he could get someone else to do for him?_

 _Magnussen took another bite out of the fish while staring dead straight into her eyes. He saw her tremble, averting her eyes from him. As she turned her head, Magnussen saw a slight glimmer from her hair clip. Something about it rang a few bells in his head…_

 _"_ _That is a very pretty clip."_

 _Mary froze as he said those words. Worry filled her stomach as she took her trembling hand and touched the clip gently. Magnussen realised where he had seen the clip before. One of his other minions had shown him a hair accessory that was an exact replica of the one in her hair. Except the one that he was shown could be doubled as a syringe._

I wouldn't put it past her to have a trick up her sleeve.

 _"_ _Pass it over to me."_

 _Mary's eyes widened in fear. This was not supposed to happen! But she couldn't refuse; it would look too suspicious if she did. And Magnussen could as easily place that call to kill John. She just had to hand it over and pray for the best._

 _Magnussen placed his hand across and opened his palm. Mary, with trembling fingers, unclasped the clip, and dropped it into his hand. He withdrew his hand and inspected the item._

 _He twisted the clip around in his finger. He took the tip of the clip and turned it slightly. It came off and a bit of liquid dropped on his palm. It was a slightly burning sensation._

 _"_ _Oh you naughty girl." Magnussen muttered, just loud enough for Mary to hear._

 _He looked up at the nervous Mary and gave her one of his knowing smiles. In that moment she knew that her last chance at hope was flushed down the toilet. A tear drop fell down her cheek and splatted on the table._

 _"_ _Oh my dear Mary," he got up, trailing his finger around the edge of the table while walking towards her, "I admire your tenacity. I really do. So I won't make that call." He continued to trail his finger up Mary's arm. She was struggling to keep still, to keep the tears away. "But I cannot allow you to get away with what you did. Actions do have consequences, after all," his hand rest on Mary's shoulder; slowly massaging it. He placed his lips on her earlobe, kissing it. "You have to be punished." His gentle massaging changed into a hard squeeze._

 _Mary was choking on her tears. She should have killed him right them, but she had no more energy to resist and she knew that Magnussen knew this._

 _"_ _And I think it is time that you receive it."_

 _XXX_

 _Mary was led to the master bedroom. It was plain and unassuming. The sheets on the bed were a startling ivory white; crisp, as if fresh sheets were chosen especially for this occasion. The lights were dimed down so that Mary could only see the shadows of her and Magnussen reflecting on the wall. The shadow of him stopped and she could see it removing its jacket._

 _All the hairs on Mary's arms were prickled up. Her skin crawled at the thought that there was no way around the problem this time, unless there was a bright idea that pinged in her head, which wasn't happening._

 _He turned her around to face him. His disgusting grin crept across his face as one hand pulled her close. The other reached around her and slowly unzipped her dress. Mary squirmed under his cold touch, squeezing her eyes closed and hoping to Hell that he was one who came quickly._

 _Magnussen leaned in and licked the shell of her ear, slowly and deliberately as her dress pooled at her feet. Mary's stomach churned violently as the tears started to fall again. She was grateful that she didn't eat the salmon._

 _She was only wearing her panties, her breasts being revealed in the open. Magnussen looked at her chest approvingly, allowing a grin to stretch across his face. Mary just felt so ashamed and what she was about to do._

It is for John. It is for John. It is for John. _She repeated the phrase in her head over and over again as Magnussen released the grasp from her back and tracing them across her bare skin to her breasts._

 _Every inch of her was screaming for help, but like she was in a paralysis, no words could get out of her mouth._

 _"_ _Mary," he stroked her nipples in a rhythmic beat, each strum sending an unwanted shot of pleasure. "I want you to look me in the eye and say what I tell you to."_

 _She did not move from her paralysis. How could she when every nerve and fibre of her core was telling her to not?_

 _Magnussen slapped her across the face, releasing her out of her state of shock. Heat blossomed from that area, spreading across her face. Magnussen's expression changed from his creepy, more pleasant, if you could say pleasant, smile to a dark, angry look._

 _"_ _I said," he hissed, his hands grasped tightly on her shoulders and his sharp nails digging in her flesh, "I want you to look me in the eye and say what I tell you."_

 _Mary gave a small nod, her eyes widened in fear. Her face was ashen in colour except for the throbbing spot where he hit her. He let go her grip on her and proceeded to undo his belt buckle, but he continued to lock eyes with her._

 _"_ _Say 'I am a dirty girl.'"_

 _"_ _I…I a-aam a dirt-dirty gi-irl." Mary stuttered as Magnussen dropped his trousers, but still had the belt in hand. His left hand was pulling down his underwear._

 _"_ _Say 'I deserve to be punished'"_

 _"_ _I des-er-ve to-o be…pun-punished." His pants were down, only his erected penis peaked out under his shirt._

 _"_ _Good." He wrapped the belt around his fist, as if it was a whip. "Now bend over the bed."_

 _Fresh tears fell down her face as she did as he asked. She mentally prepared herself for what she had to face. Her fists clenched the sheets tightly as she gritted her teeth._

I will not give him the satisfaction! I WILL NOT GIVE HIM THE SATISFACTION! _She repeated over and over in her head._

 _The crack of the whip rushing through the air was heard before the pain hit her. She let out a choking sob._

 _She forced pleasant images into her mind: John proposing to her…_

 _WHACK!_

 _Sherlock pretending to be a waiter just for the sake of a dramatic entrance…_

 _WHACK!_

 _John and that stupid moustache…_

 _WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!_

 _The pain intensified on each hit as her skin became more and more sensitive. She let out a little cry when he hit the last hit._

 _"_ _Now, my darling," his voice dropping a few octaves, pre-cum dripping down his leg, "you are going spread your legs and allow me to enter."_

 **Oh God my bokkies** **I am so sorry for neglecting y'all for so long, but friggen school is a pain in the ass, and the Lord help everyone if I got caught typing this at school.**

 **I am also sorry for the content, I really am. I literally am super tired and I have no idea what I just typed out. I just used my hate for Magnussen (if you haven't got it anyway, I really hate the character) and went with the flow. I would really love for more advice for me to improve my writing.**

 **Love from yours truly**

 **Thecapefangirl xxx**


	16. Chapter sixteen

"YOU DID **_WHAT_** TO MARY!" John exclaimed, his face flushed and heat radiating off his cheeks. He felt his whole life crumbling down around him.

Not only did Mary lie about her life before she was with John, she lied about what happened while she was with him.

It hurt him that she was going to give birth to this…this… arrogant piece of crap's offspring.

But what hit him the most was the thought that she went through this humiliation, sacrificing her respect, just to have a normal life. And as it turns out that John didn't even return the love she gave up everything for. Mary did it all for nothing.

Sherlock was just holding to the last strand of calm he had in his body. He knew that Magnussen was trying everything to try and make them slip up. He was very clever to target John's emotions. John was very volatile, especially when one hit the right spot of his heart (Sherlock should know. He could still clearly feel the punch from John when Sherlock appeared after two years of being dead).

Magnussen was relishing ever single moment of this retelling of the story. He loved watching their faces turn from disgust into hatred. He could see John visibly shaking in anger, but knowing that he couldn't do anything to stop it. Magnussen loved the fact that Sherlock was clenching his hand into a fist, but restraining himself. It was such a pity that there really wasn't a library filled with information, because they sure deserved it.

He smiled and pushed up from the chair. He then walked over slowly to John and whispered in his ear. "I said I fucked your wife, John. I fucked her until she was crying. I fucked her until she was _begging_ me to stop."

That was it for John. He couldn't bare it. He loved Mary. He will always love Mary. She was raped, she was blackmailed, and she had to kill to stay alive. And after all of that there was no way he could repay that commitment to their relationship.

But he was sure as hell was going to try.

He threw a punch right in Magnussen's face. It was so hard that he could hear the crack of bone being broken. Blood began to trickle out of Magnussen's nose, his glasses askew on his nose. He then proceeded to strangle Magnussen, his thumbs pressing hard on his throat.

Sherlock ran rushed to John to try and pull him away, but the bodyguard got there first. They grabbed his collar and threw him on to the ground.

John landed on his back, his head knocked hard back on the floor. Pain bloomed from that point and spread through the rest of his head. It would have been worse if adrenaline was not rushing through his veins.

The bodyguard was ready to throw another punch at John, but Sherlock was already standing threatening in front of John, ready to protect him at all costs.

The man raised his eyebrow at Sherlock in amusement, before walking towards him.

What happened next was to fast that it was over before John registered what was happening.

Sherlock tripped the man and used gravity and his weight against him and threw him to the floor. Once the man was face first on the ground Sherlock twisted his hand behind his back and wrapped his other arm around the man's neck. The man could not get up even if he tried.

Sherlock bent down and whispered in his ear "Do you think your wife would approve of you allowing a woman to be raped as you stood by and did nothing?"

The man's eyes widened in surprise. "What? How, how did…?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes at the man's ignorance. Wasn't it obvious?

"You are married, as you wear the ring. In your left pocket you were fiddling with a box which is the size of a box that would be hiding a necklace, which suggests that you have a wife. I know she works with charity as you are wearing a paper band that says 'The only fight I am for is for equality'. It is new, but there are tears and teeth marks, stretching the material which means that you have tried to take it off. Usually people keep them as long as possible, like a keepsake. So that means you were dragged along by your wife. Am I right?"

The man choked out a 'Yes'

"So you are going to go back to your wife right now and enjoy Christmas. Yes?"

"Yes."

"Good."

Sherlock loosened his grip on him and the man scrambled up and ran out. He could not help but to have a small smile pulling on his lips.

He turned to John who was still in awe of the scene that just played out. Sherlock ran to his lover.

"Are you alright?"

John nodded. Sherlock clasped his hand and pulled him up. Once he was up, he straightened his shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair. His face was stoic as he walked over to the bleeding Magnussen, clutching his nose. Sherlock decided that there was no point in holding John back. There wasn't enough time left before Mycroft would be there.

John slapped Magnussen again, leaving a red mark on his cheek.

"You fucker! You will pay for ruining millions of lives, and for what? You are suffering from small man syndrome? It looks like you really not God after all. You bleed like the rest of us."

John bent down and allowed his hand to wrap around Magnussen's neck before he could reply.

"I want to see you suffer from your own humanity like you did to others. You used their own mistakes against them and you shall do the same. And do you know what mistake was?" Magnussen let out a choking noise. "Your mistake was too get one of my closest, my most beloved friends, pregnant because you were scared to face your consequences."

John felt the floor for the gun that the bodyguard left. And grasped it tight.

Magnussen felt a smile stretch across his face. "It…seems...that…you are…the…one mistaken."

John rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up Magnussen."

He pulled the trigger as the sound of shouting and running surrounded them.

 ** _HEY BOKKIES_**

 ** _I am so happy to be back! Just here to say that I am nearing the end of the fic! So just hold on till the best part!_**

 ** _Love thecapefangirl! 333_**


	17. Chapter seventeen

Mycroft was extremely disappointed. Out of all the things that would piss him off, Sherlock running off with his laptop is definitely at the top of the list. He shouldn't have been as so stupid to bring it with him in the first place! But no, the government does not stop because it is Christmas. In fact, it is the most dangerous time of the year as everyone is having a winter break off in God knows where.

As the helicopter landed, Mycroft removed the helmet from his head and jumped out onto the lawn.

A few men ran ahead, guns held tightly in there hand. One of them signalled that all was in the clear and it was safe to advance. Magnussen , Sherlock and John were apparent

 _Why would Sherlock do this?_ That was the million pound question. Sherlock had shown his disgust with Magnussen from the start. To suddenly change his mind and to _give_ him this information…it was unbelievable.

The soldiers sprinted into the house pounded up the steps when suddenly Mycroft heard gun shot.

 _Oh God! Sherlock!_

Mycroft and the rest sprinted towards the noise. Images of Sherlock laying bloodied and dead flashed through his mind, sending shivers up his spine. Just like that day all those months ago when Sherlock faked his own death. For a few hours that day he actually believed it to be true, that is until Sherlock showed up at his doorstep and revealed the truth.

But for those few hours it was hell. For the first time he had to take a 'sick leave'. Once Mycroft got home, he collapsed on his bed, crying like he was six again. He thought his heart was cold and hollow, but for those few hours he felt an emptiness that he had never felt before. He buried his head under the pillow and pretended that he didn't exist.

That was the exact moment when a voice behind him spoke.

"Miss me already Mycroft?"

Mycroft nearly jumped twenty feet when he heard his dear brother. He turned his head in astonishment to see Sherlock smirking behind him. Mycroft would have believed him a ghost if for the fact that when he slapped him, his hand did hit solid flesh.

After a few minutes of chastising him, Mycroft pushed in for a hug. He swore that he would never let any serious harm come to him again.

Now Mycroft's heart broke like his promise. If it was Sherlock lying on that floor with Magnussen, or, let's be honest, Magnussen's bodyguards, holding the gun, Mycroft will break another promise and make sure Magnussen will lead a long and painful life. Death would be too quick for him.

You must have understood the shock that crossed his face when he saw who was actually holding the gun…

XXX

John was in a suspended state of semi-consciousness. He could only see a blurry background with his sole focus on Magnussen, with his gaping wound between his glassy eyes. His eyes were staring right back at him, with a half-smile that suggested that there still one last secret left untold, that there was one last joke played on him.

Magnussen's last words repeated over and over again in his head. _It seems that you are the one mistaken._

Did it mean anything? Or was its Magnussen's last laugh, the final hold he had over his victims? Was it meant to drive John to insanity in trying to guess that last riddle Magnussen posed on him?

John squeezed his eyes shut. There were just too many thoughts running through his mind and it was making his head ache. While all of these thousands of thoughts about the past ran through his mind, he didn't quite contemplate what the future held. The future that was embarking up those steps that second.

Sherlock was fully aware of this development. He acted fast as he grabbed the gun out of John's limp hand. He spun around and pointed it at the first face that appeared on the staircase.

It was Mycroft.

XXX

The two brothers faced one another, guns cocked and raised.

"Sherlock," Mycroft said in a deadpan voice. He gave the signal to stand down his men. The all obeyed, dropping their guns, but still on full alert.

"Mycroft." Sherlock replied just as dry as his brother.

"I would ask what happened, but let's skip formalities. Why did you do it?"

Sherlock glanced to first Magnussen, then at his fiancé. He could not allow John to be the one blamed for this event. Sherlock was the one who got him into this trouble in the first place he should be the one to be punished. At least John might get off lightly, if he was lucky.

"Magnussen had some information that I wanted so I offered a trade. Your information for something about a friend"

Mycroft slammed his hand down on the counter. "You offered the secrets of the British Government in exchange for a little gossip! Sherlock, do you know what would have happened if he had it?"

"Well, you should know. You were protecting him." Sherlock retorted.

" _Touché_ brother mine, but that doesn't excuse you from what you have done. What in God's name is so important that it made you go and steal that laptop."

Sherlock lowered his head. "All the information about Mary Watson."

Mycroft froze. He should have known that AGRA would pop up again sometime, especially when 'Mary' entered their lives. He never said anything because it was not his story to tell, but now in hindsight, he should have done something about it.

Mycroft looked up into Sherlock's eyes. "You are officially under arrest until the court says something different." He looked behind Sherlock to see John sprawled on the floor. "Come with us quietly, and I might be able to excuse John from any association of this."

Sherlock nodded as he dropped the gun on the floor. That was all he ever wanted, for John to be safe.

"We might, on second thoughts, need an ambulance instead of a van."

XXX

John was completely recovered by the time Sherlock was to leave England for his secret mission. He at least was allowed to see him off to wherever Mycroft was sending him to.

He was not originally happy about what Sherlock did. John insisted that his name was to be cleared and they both get the punishment dished out equally, but Sherlock told him that it wouldn't have resolved anything, instead making it worse in the end.

He and his ex-wife stood outside the plane waiting the final moment where Sherlock would embark on the flight.

John was feeling awkward next to Mary, not because the divorce papers went through quickly (so quickly in fact that he wouldn't be surprised that Mycroft didn't have a hand in it), but because he knew about her past fully.

John risked a glance. Mary was holding her bump and standing uncomfortably. Her face was drawn and pale, her eyes hand bags under them. She was looking over all sleep deprived. He would have thought that she would have felt safer that he was dead, but he secretly knew that she knew why he killed him.

John cleared his throat. "Uh Mary…"

"Yes?" Her voice had not a trace of emotion in it.

He turned around fully and faced her. "I know what happened."

Who would have known that a face would have gotten paler?

"What do you mean?"

"I mean all about what you had to do for Magnussen to keep your secret safe, our family safe and how it resulted in something unexpected." He glanced down at her belly.

Mary's eyes widened as the tears brimmed. "Oh God, John!" She exclaimed. "I am so sorry! I swear I was going to tell you! I do! I had to do it, I…"

"Shh it is alright." He chided, pulling her to his side, kissing her head. "It is not your fault. I know what he did to you and I know why you did it. I am sorry that you had to do it. If I had known that Magnussen got you pregnant, I would have pulled the trigger a long time ago."

Mary froze. "John what did you say?"

"I said I would have killed Magnussen a long time ago if I knew he got you pregnant." John said slowly, confused at the question.

"Oh God John, Magnussen didn't get me pregnant. It was Lord Ryan Blade."

 _ **Howzit Bokkies**_

 _ **I am not gonna lie, I did get very lazy towards the end, so excuse my terrible writing.**_

 _ **Just so you should know, I completely made up Lord Ryan Blade.**_

 ** _Probably the next chapter will be the last because I can tie this up neatly and painlessly._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl._**


	18. Chapter eighteen

Lord Ryan Blade was an unassuming man, but a man whom held a huge position of power. Many may remember him from the scandal when he took the family company, _Blade_ , which once specialised in making micro-technology, and changed it into a game development company that made online multiplayer games. Now _Blade_ is a multimillionaire corporation, producing five star games like _When It All Falls Down:_ a strategy game in which you are part of a resistance rebelling against the Nazi regime and _Distance:_ a first person shooter in which the player is a sniper and has to shoot their enemies from special strategic spots around the playing field.

He, unlike the rest of the British aristocracy and Magnussen's victims, had no stigma attached to his name. Sure he created quite a stir with the old ladies by changing the course of his company, but that was forgotten within a year when he began to contribute his money to charities, free games to those who deserved it, and traveling too poor countries to find fresh blood to contribute to his expanding business. He created more than a thousand jobs within nine months. I could write a hundred pages about why he was the best in everything that he did, but we are not here to talk about that, we are here to talk about the single mistake that caused him to be ensnared in Magnussen's claws.

And that mistake was simply calling Magnussen up on his shit.

The short version is that Blade was friends with Magnussen's rival, Alistair Mey. They would talk on hours on end about who the real man Magnussen hid under his façade. One day, while the two were completely drunk on the Lord knows what, Mey and Blade both thought it would be a brilliant idea to create an article about Magnussen and his sketchy dealings.

The idea did not get very far as one of Magnussen's moles intercepted the article before it could be published. You might imagine that this did not end very well for them.

Mey "disappeared" after that incident suddenly and Blade, well Blade was a great addition Magnussen's collection of minions.

He paid his debt on the same night that Mary paid hers.

XXX

 _An hour passed when Magnussen stopped. All of his urges were finally satisfied. He stood back and admired the hot, whimpering, crumbing mess that was presented in front of him._

 _Mary lay face forward on the bed, tears running down her face and dampening the sheets around her. She gripped the sheets tightly just waiting for the next time he would whip her with his belt. She felt her bruised legs shaking in anticipation. And she just **knew** that Magnussen was enjoying every second of it._

 _"Turn around, Mary." Magnussen said. She was in no mood to object; she had seen, **felt** , what happened when she begged him to stop. The only begging that Magnussen wanted to hear was the ones that turned him on._

 _She used the last of her energy to slump on her back. She could not help but to stare back into the leering eyes of Magnussen, and that was all that was needed to say to what he was going to do next. The final insult._

 _A second past. Then another. The anticipation within Mary grew with every second._

 _"Magnussen, for the love of God, please just get over this." Mary said. "Just stick in me so you can satisfy your inferiority complex."_

 _Magnussen gave his grin as he walked up to her. "Oh I am not an idiot. I would never go that far."_

 _Anger boiled in Mary's veins. "That is the point you start getting a conscience?! You have hit me, whipped me, bound me, stuck objects in places that should not be put in, but having actual sex is where your draw the line."_

 _Magnussen just laughed at her. "Oh Mary, Mary, Mary, you are so adorable when you get so upset." He sat down on the bed beside her, drawing circles on her soft skin with his finger, dangerously close to her breasts. Mary again tried to keep her cool, but she was not one to do such a thing at an injustice. "But no. I can't risk any chance getting you pregnant."_

 _"Oh how considerate of you." Mary mumbled._

 _Magnussen ignored the comment. "As far as I know, you don't take any oral contraceptives, and I do not like the feel of a sheath. And if **you** do have a child, you could send a statement to a newspaper with the claim of its paternity, having a DNA test to prove it." _

_"So does that mean I get to go home?" Mary's heart lifted at the thought that this horrible nightmare would be over. She could finally be free of this hold that he had over her. She just imagined a life without having to be a bound slave to this monster!_

 _He grinned. "Oh this is not over. I have one last request. Mann!"_

 _An oldish man with combed grey hair opened up the door instantly, like he had been waiting there for just as long that they have been in there. The man glanced at her, but his dull eyes didn't linger there for long. His face was expressionless, which made Mary think how many times Magnussen did this to women._

 _"Yes sir."_

 _"Bring in our special guest."_

 _"Yes sir."_

 _Mann left them for two minutes before he arrived back with another man._

 _This man looked about mid-twenties in age, slight stubble dotted across his chin. He had the most stunning blue (or is it green?) eyes, that it almost rivaled Sherlock's. His honey-brown hair was reflecting ever so slightly in the corridor light._

 _Mary squinted because she was sure she had seen this man before. She wouldn't have been surprised if this man was in a high position of power. All of them are most of the time._

 _"Ah, it is great of you to come by, Lord Blade."_

Lord Blade? Like the owner of the _Blade_ company?

 _This man, Blade shot Magnussen a cold, bitter look, not unlike the one that Mary had many times before. He held his head up high, refusing to even chance one tear to roll down his cheek._

 _"I was not like I had much of a choice. You were threatening to kill my family."_

 _Magnussen shrugged. "Technicalities. Mann, leave us."_

 _The servant bowed as he left, closing the door behind him._

 _Blade nodded towards Mary. "So this is my payment to you…to join your orgy. Because you are so repulsive that no sane person would fuck you out of their own will."_

 _Mary admired his tenacity, but it also broke her heart that given a few minutes his stubbornness will amount to nothing, just like it had with her._

 _Magnussen pushed himself off the bed and strolled over to Blade. "It seems I have chosen the two with the sharpest tongues, but not the sharpest minds." He pushed himself onto Blade and whispered in his ear. "Mind what you say or else it won't be only you family who will be in deep trouble. Understand."_

 _Blade only nodded._

 _"Good, now you see that woman on that bed. She is Mary Watson, known assassin and here also to pay the last of her debt. You are going to make sure that she will get the best fuck of her life, and I want you to both show that you enjoy it. If not, you will stay here until I am satisfied."_

 _Blade looked at Mary horrified. He couldn't. She looked so vulnerable and meek, and it would be just wrong and plain disgusting. He wouldn't! But if he didn't, his mother and father..._

I have to do this, don't I?

 _He gulped as he started to undress. The faster this was, the faster it finished and he could just go home without any words said between them._

 _He looked Mary in the eye once he was completely naked and said "I am sorry. I wish there was another way."_

 _"I know." She squeezed her eyes as she felt the unfamiliar body climb over her._

XXX

John stood there astounded. There were no words that flowed through his head and no sounds through his lips.

In a weird way he was relieved. He would have rather Mary's child born from someone who is respectable rather than that reptilian prick, but in a small way he still wished that he and this unborn child would share some DNA.

Mary continued as she felt the weight of the guilt lift off of her shoulders. "After it was all done, we barely acknowledged each other. Magnussen threw me my clothes saying that he still had more business to attend to with Blade. He doesn't know that he has daughter out there in the world and it is better that we leave it that way."

"I understand...wait, did you say 'daughter'?" His heart picked up speed. He never thought about the gender of the child, only that there was one. It made him smile that he will be the surrogate father to a baby girl, who will hopefully grow up to be just as strong as her mother. And honestly after what Mary went through, John believed that there really was no need for more males in the world.

Mary realised what she let slip. She went to her doctor the day before and was extremely happy to hear the news that she was going to have a girl.

She was about to reply, when the black car which was carrying Sherlock, made its way towards them. She dared a sideways glace at John. His expression dropped back down to its heartbroken grimace. She knows more than anyone else that Sherlock meant the world to him and that he still feels the responsibility for putting Sherlock there in the first place.

The car pulled up beside them. Sherlock and Mycroft both got out of the car and walked over to the two.

Sherlock's face was stoic, but his eyes showed all the emotion that was needed to tell what he felt. He walked up to Mary and hugged her.

"You will take care of him while I am gone."

She gave him a smile and nodded. "Don't worry, I will keep him in trouble."

Sherlock turned to his fiancé, without a single word to say. There really was not a lot to be said. John felt the same.

He began after a few moments of awkward silence. "Sherlock…um…"

"Yes?"

He sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. It felt like he had lost Sherlock all over again. It was like he was standing by his grave, weeping for him. "Can you do one thing for me?" He said "One last thing."

Sherlock cocked his eyebrow and folded his arms. "And that is…?"

"When you are away please don't be…"

"Dead? I know." Sherlock cut in, remembering those exact words on that day.

John took a second to realise, his eyes widened. "How…oh, my God, you were there, weren't you, that day at the graveyard."

Sherlock allowed a small sly smile to lift his lips. That was all John needed to confirm what he already knew.

"You were a few metres away from me and you didn't do _anything_!?" John flung his arms up in exasperation.

"Well, I couldn't because of…"

"Moriarty's operation, I know. But still! You you...idiot." They locked eyes for a second before they were in a fit of giggles. Mycroft and Mary looked at each other knowingly. They both expected nothing less from them.

"John, in all seriousness, I am going to miss this. I am going to miss you."

His heart skipped a beat, "I am going to miss you as well."

"I love you." Sherlock said as he leaned forward, allowing his arms to wrap around John's waist.

"I love you too."

Slowly they kissed that final lover's kiss that is filled with both passion and pain as well as being hard to part with. It took a cough from Mycroft to make them separate.

There were no words exchanged between them when John moved away, just like the night where it started, except it was Sherlock's turn to leave.

The pain already started to full both of their souls. John ever wonder how he could actually last very long without him. He had to remind himself that he managed two years, surely he would survive.

Mary moved next to him and held his hand in a reassuring grip, as they watched Sherlock embark on his flight out.

Sherlock stared straight in front of him in fear that he would break down if he didn't. Sherlock didn't want to think that the chances of ever seeing John again were nearly nil. But if John had taught him anything, that is that sometimes it is better to not look at life through a logical mind set. It could turn a man crazy.

And, after all, the east wind was coming.

XXX

Mary tugged John's hand towards the car after they watched the plane take-off.

"That is not possible! Simply not possible!" Mycroft exclaimed from behind them as he got out of the car.

"What has happened?" John asked.

Mycroft turned to them, visibly shocked. "It is Moriarty. He is back."

 ** _Good Morning Bokkies! (Well it is where I live)_**

 ** _Another fanfic finished!I honestly hope y'all enjoyed this and if you want a sequel, I have a few ideas up my sleeve. So tell me if it is worth it in the comment section._**

 ** _ANYWAYS, I will see you anon in another cheesy Avengers fanfic (or nerd stories as my brother has taken to calling them) that I shall start ASAP._**

 ** _Love from thecapefangirl_**

 ** _PS: The guy who I based Blade on (you know who you are): if you ever read this, I just want to say that I am sorry and please don't judge me on my life choices._**


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